FLASH-LIGHTS 

FROM  THE 

SEVEN  SEAS 


WILLIAM  L.    STIDGER 


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FLASH-LIGHTS 
FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

WILLIAM  L.  STIDGER 


MT,    TAISHAN,    CHINA,    SAID    TO    BE    THE    OLDEST    WORSHIPPING 
PLACE      ON     EABTH. 


FLASH-LIGHTS 
FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 


BY 
WILLIAM  L.  STIDGER 

AXTTHOR    OF    "STANDING    ROOM    ONLY,"    "STAR 

DUST  FROM  THE  DUGOUTS,"  "OUTDOOR 

MEN    AND    MINDS,"    ETC. 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

BISHOP  FRANCIS  J.  McCONNELL 

ILLUSTRATED 

FROM    PHOTOGRAPHS    BY 

THE  AUTHOR 


NEW  Xar^  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1921, 
BY  GEORGE   H.   DORAN   COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


DEDICATED   TO 

MARY  I.  SCOTT 

A   WOMAN    FRIEND 

WHO     PUSHED    BACK    THE     HORIZONS    OF 

THE    WORLD     AND     LED    ME    TO    THE 

BEGINNING  OF  THE   TRAIL  THAT 

HAS   NO  end:  THE  TRAIL  OF 

DREAMS    AND   TRAVEL 


INTRODUCTION 

By  bishop  FRANCIS  J.  McCONNELL 

THE  Rev.  William  L.  Stidger  is  one  of 
the  most  thoroughly  alive  men  in  the  min- 
istry today.  He  sees  quickly,  reacts  instan- 
taneously, and  knows  how  to  bring  others  to  a 
like  alertness  of  mental  and  spiritual  seizure.  If  it 
be  said  of  him  that  he  is  impressionistic  it  must  be 
remembered  that  the  impressions  are  made  on 
a  mind  of  sound  purpose  and  communicated  to 
others  for  the  sake  of  the  truth  behind  the  im- 
pression. His  narratives  of  travel  do  not  belong 
in  the  guide-book  category  or  in  that  of  the  scien- 
tific geography.  But  if  you  wish  to  know  what 
it  would  be  like  to  visit  yourself  the  countries 
described,  the  reading  of  Mr.  Stidger's  sketches 
will  help  you.  If  it  be  said  that  what  one  after 
all  is  getting  is  the  Stidger  view,  it  must  not  be 
forgotten  that  the  Stidger  view  is  marvellously 
vital  and  enkindling.  The  Stidger  vitality  is 
bracing  and  health-giving.     It  is  a  tonic  for  all 


▼iii  INTRODUCTION 

of  us  who  are  getting  a  little  old  and  sluggish. 
The  contagion  of  youth  and  energy  are  in  this 
book :  it  will  reach  and  stir  all  who  read. 

Francis  J.  McConnell 
Pittsburgh,  Pa. 


FOREWORD 

THAT  vast  stretch  of  opal  islands ;  jade  con- 
tinents; sapphire  seas  of  strange  sunsets; 
mysterious  masses  of  brown-skinned  human- 
ity; brown-eyed,  full-breasted,  full-lipped  and 
full-hipped  women ;  which  we  call  the  Orient,  can 
only  be  caught  by  the  photographer's  art  in  flash- 
light pictures. 

It  is  like  a  photograph  taken  in  the  night.  It 
cannot  be  clear  cut.  It  cannot  have  clean  outlines. 
It  can  only  be  a  blurred  mass  of  humanity  with 
burdens  on  their  shoulders ;  humanity  bent  to  the 
ground ;  creaking  carts ;  weary-eyed  children  and 
women;  moving,  moving,  moving;  like  phantom 
shadow-shapes;  in  and  out;  one  great  maze 
through  the  majestic  ages;  one  confused  history 
of  the  ancient  past ;  emerging;  but  not  yet  out  into 
the  sunlight ! 

Such  masses  of  humanity ;  such  dim,  uncertain 
origins  of  unfathered  races;  these  can  only  be 
caught  and  seen  as  through  a  glass  darkly. 

Paul  Hutchinson,  my  friend,  in  "The  Atlantic 
Monthly"  says  of  China  what  is  true  of  the  whole 
Orient : 


X  FOREWORD 

"In  this  vast  stretch  of  country,  with  its  poor  com- 
munications, we  can  only  know  in  part.  When  one  sets 
out  to  generaHze  he  does  so  at  his  own  peril.  The  only 
consolation  is  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  disprove  any 
statement;  for,  however  fantastical,  it  is  probably  in 
accord  with  the  facts  in  some  part  of  the  land." 

The  facts,  fancies,  and  fallacies  of  this  book 
are  gleaned  from  the  rovings  and  ramblings  of 
a  solid  year  of  over  fifty-five  thousand  miles  of 
travel;  through  ten  separate  countries:  Japan, 
Korea,  China,  the  Philippine  Islands,  French 
Indo-China,  the  Malay  States,  Borneo,  Java, 
Sumatra  and  the  Hawaiian  Islands ;  across  seven 
seas:  the  Pacific  Ocean,  the  Sea  of  Japan,  the 
North  China  Sea,  the  Yellow  Sea,  the  South 
China  Sea,  the  Malacca  Straits,  and  the  Sea  of 
Java;  after  visiting  five  wild  and  primitive  tribes : 
the  Ainu  Indians  of  Japan,  the  Igorrotes  of  the 
Philippines,  the  Negritos  of  the  same  islands ;  the 
Dyaks  of  Borneo,  and  the  Battaks  of  Sumatra; 
face  to  face  by  night  and  day  with  new  races,  new 
faces,  new  problems,  new  aspirations,  new  ways 
of  doing  things,  new  ways  of  living,  new  evils, 
new  sins,  new  cruelties,  new  fears,  new  degrada- 
tions; new  hopes,  new  days,  new  ways,  new  na- 
tions arising;  new  gods,  and  a  new  God! 

When  one  comes  back  from  such  a  trip,  having 
fortified  himself  with  the  reading  of  many  books 
written  about  these  far  lands,  in  addition  to  his 


FOREWORD  xi 

travel,  one  still  has  the  profound  conviction  that, 
after  all  is  said,  done,  and  thought  out,  the  only 
honest  way  to  picture  these  vast  stretches  of  land 
and  humanity  is  to  confess  that  all  is  in  motion ; 
like  a  great  mass  of  bees  in  a  hive,,  one  on  top  of 
the  other,  busy  at  buzzing,  buying,  selling,  living, 
dying,  climbing,  achieving;  groping  in  the  dark; 
moving  upward  by  an  unerring  instinct  toward 
the  light. 

At  nights  I  cannot  sleep  for  thinking  about  that 
weird,  dim,  misty  panorama  of  fleeting,  flashing 
pictures;  those  thousands  of  Javanese  that  I  saw 
down  in  Sourabaya,  who  have  never  known  what 
it  means  to  have  a  home ;  who  sleep  in  doorways 
by  night,  and  along  the  river  banks;  where 
mothers  give  birth  to  children,  who  in  turn  live 
and  die  out  under  the  open  sky.  Nor  can  I  forget 
that  animal-like  beggar  in  Canton  who  dug  into 
a  gutter  for  his  food;  or  those  hideous  beggars, 
by  winter  along  the  railway  in  Shantung;  or  the 
naked  one-year-old  child  covered  with  sores 
which  a  beggar  woman  in  the  Chinese  section  of 
Shanghai  held  to  her  own  naked  breast.  Those 
pictures  and  a  thousand  others  abide. 

One  has  the  feeling  that  if  he  could  go  back, 
again,  and  again,  and  again  to  these  far  shores, 
and  live  with  these  peoples  and  die  with  them, 
then  he  would  begin  faintly  to  understand  what 
it  all  means  and  where  it  is  all  headed. 


xii  FOREWORD 

And  this  author,  for  one,  is  honest  in  saying 
that,  in  spite  of  careful  investigation,  in  spite  of 
extensive  travel  and  a  sympathetic  heart,  he  sees 
but  dimly.  The  very  glory  of  it  all,  the  age  of  it 
all,  the  wonder  of  it  all,  the  mysterious  beauty  and 
thrill  of  it  all;  the  thrill  of  these  masses  of 
humanity,  their  infinite  possibilities  for  future 
greatness;  like  a  great  blinding  flash  of  glory, 
dims  one's  eyes  for  a  time. 

But,  now,  that  he  has,  through  quiet  medita- 
tion and  perspective,  had  a  chance  to  develop  the 
films  of  thought,  he  finds  that  he  has  brought 
back  home  pictures  that  one  ought  not  to  keep  to 
one's  self;  especially  in  this  day,  when,  what  hap- 
pens to  Asia  is  so  largely  to  determine  what  hap- 
pens to  America. 

So,  out  of  the  dark  room,  where  they  have 
been  developing  for  a  year,  and  out  of  the  dim 
shadows  of  that  mysterious  land  whence  they 
came,  they  are  printed  and  at  the  bottom  of  each 
picture  shall  be  written  the  humble  words : 

"Flash-Lights  from  the  Seven  Seas" 

William  L.  Stidger. 
Detroit,  Michigan. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Introduction     by     Bishop     Francis     J. 

McCoNNELL vii 

Foreword ix 

CHAPTER 

I     Flash-Lights  of  Flame iq 

II     Flash-Lights  Physical 33 

III  Flash-Lights  of  Faith 49 

IV  Flash-Lights  of  Fear 63 

V     Flash-Lights  of  Frightfulness     ...  79 

VI     Feminine  Flash-Lights loi 

VII     Flash-Lights  of  Fun 123 

VIII     Flash-Lights  of  Freedom 145 

IX     Flash-Lights  of  Failure 165 

X     Flash-Lights  of  Friendship     ....  189 


ziu 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Mt.  Taishan,  the  Oldest  Worshipping  Place 

ON  Earth Frontispiece 

PAGE 

The  Walled  City  of  Manila 48 

Beautiful  Filipino  Girls 48 

Korean  Girls  with  American  Ideals  and  Train- 
ing     49 

Stepping  Aside  in  Korea 49 

Confucius  Tomb  at  Chufu,  China    ....  64 

Ruin  of  the  Ming  Tombs 64 

Grinding  Rice  in  China 65 

A  Camel  Train  Entering  Peking 65 

The  Temple  of  Heaven,  Peking 112 

A    Beautiful    Thirteen-Story    Pagoda    Near 

Peking 112 

A  Wayside  Temple  and  Shrine 113 

A  Sunrise  Silhouette,  Java 113 

Old  Bromo  Volcano,  Java 128 

A  Side  View  of  Beautiful  Boroboedoer,  Java    .  128 

Naked  and  Otherwise 129 

A  Dog  Market 129 

XV 


FLASH-LIGHTS 
FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 


FLASH-LIGHTS 
FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

CHAPTER   I 

FLASH-LIGHTS   OF   FLAME 

FIRE!    Fire!    Fire  everywhere! 
Fire  in  the  sky,  fire  on  the  sea,,  fire  on  the 
ships,  fire  in  the  flowers,,  fire  in  the  trees  of  the 
forest;  fire  in  the  Poinsetta  bushes  which  flash 
their  red  flames  from  every  yard  and  jungle. 

In  the  tropical  lands  flowers  do  not  burst  into 
blossom;  they  burst  into  flame.  Great  bushes  of 
flaming  Poinsetta,  as  large  as  American  lilac 
bushes,  burst  into  flame  over  night  in  Manila. 

That  great  tree,  as  large  as  an  Oak,  which  they 
call  "The  Flame  of  the  Forest,"  looks  like  a  tree 
on  fire  with  flowers.  One  will  roam  the  world 
over  and  see  nothing  more  beautiful  than  this 
great  tree  which  looks  like  a  massive  umbrella  of 
solid  flame. 

Every  flower  in  the  Orient  seems  to  be  a  crim- 
son flower.  The  tropical  heat  of  the  Philippines, 
Java,  Borneo,  Sumatra,  the  Malay  States  and 

19 


20    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

India's  far  reaches;  with  beautiful  Ceylon,  and 
Burma;  seems  to  give  birth  to  crimson  child- 
flowers. 

The  sunsets  burst  into  bloom,  as  well  as  the 
flowers.  There  is  no  region  on  earth  where  sun- 
sets flare  into  birth  and  die  in  a  flash-light  of 
glory  and  beauty  like  they  do  in  the  regions  of 
the  South  China  Sea.  For  months  at  a  stretch, 
every  night,  without  a  break,  the  most  wildly 
gorgeous,  flaming,  flaring,  flashing  crimson  sun- 
sets crown  the  glory  of  the  days. 

I  have  been  interested  in  catching  pictures  of 
sunsets  all  over  the  world.  I  have  caught  hun- 
dreds of  sunsets  with  the  Graflex;  and  other 
hundreds  have  I  captured  with  a  Corona.,  just  as 
they  occurred;  and  I  have  never  seen  a  spot  on 
earth  where  the  sunsets  were  such  glorious  out- 
bursts of  crimson  and  golden  beauty  as  across 
the  circling  shores  of  Manila  Bay. 

Night  after  night  I  have  sat  in  that  ancient 
city  and  watched  these  tumultuous,  tumbling. 
Turner-like  flashes  of  color. 

One  night  the  sky  was  flame  from  sea  to 
zenith  across  Manila  Bay.  It  was  like  a  great 
Flame  of  the  Forest  tree  in  full  bloom.  Against 
this  sky  of  flaming  sunset-clouds,  hundreds  of 
ships,  anchored  in  the  bay,  lit  their  lesser  crimson 
lights;  while,,  now  and  then,  a  battleship  which 
was  signaling  to  another  ship,  flashed  its  message 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FLAME  21 

of  light  against  the  fading  glow  of  glory  in  the 
crimson  sunset. 

"It  is  light  talking  unto  light ;  flash  unto  flash ; 
crimson  unto  crimson!"  said  a  friend  who  sat 
with  me  looking  out  across  that  beautiful  bay. 

The  picture  of  that  flaming  sunset,  with  the 
great  vessels  silhouetted  against  it ;  with  the  little 
lights  on  the  ships,  running  in  parallel  rows ;  and 
the  flashing  lights  of  signals  from  the  masts  of 
the  battleship  will  never  die  in  one's  memory. 

It  was  a  quiet,  peaceful  scene. 

But  suddenly,  like  a  mighty  volcano  a  burst 
of  flame  swept  into  the  air  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Pasig  River.  It  leapt  into  the  sky  and  lighted 
up  the  entire  harbor  in  a  great  conflagration. 
The  little  ships  stood  out,  silhouetted  against  that 
great  flaming  oil  tanker. 

"It's  a  ship  on  fire !"  Otto  exclaimed. 

"Let's  go  and  see  it !"  I  added. 

Then  we  were  off  for  the  mouth  of  the  Pasig 
which  was  not  far  away. 

There  we  saw  the  most  spectacular  fire  I  have 
ever  seen.  A  great  oil  tanker  full  of  Cocoanut- 
oil  had  burst  into  flame,  trapping  thirty  men  in  its 
awful  furnace.  Its  gaunt  masts  stood  out  like 
toppling  tree  skeletons  from  a  forest  fire  against 
the  now  deepening  might ;  made  vivid  and  livid  by 
the  bursting  flames  that  leapt  higher  and  higher 


22    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

with  each  successive  explosion  from  a  tank  of 
gasoline  or  oil. 

I  got  out  my  Graflex  and  caught  several  pic- 
tures of  this  flash-light  of  flame,  but  none  that 
vi^ill  be  as  vivid,  as  lurid,  or  as  lasting  as  the  flash- 
light that  was  etched  into  the  film  of  my  memory. 

The  next  flash-light  of  flame  came  bursting  out 
of  midnight  darkness  on  the  island  of  Java. 

We  were  bound  for  old  Bromo,  that  giant  vol- 
cano of  Java.  We  had  started  at  midnight  and  it 
would  take  us  until  daylight  to  reach  the  crater- 
brink  of  this  majestic  mountain  of  fire. 

White  flashes  of  light,  leapt  from  Bromo  at 
frequent  intervals  all  night  long  as  we  traveled  on 
ponies  through  the  tropical  jungle  trail,  upward, 
and  onward  to  the  brink  of  that  pit  of  hell. 

White  flashes  of  light  leapt  from  Bromo  at 
the  narrow  rail.  They  called  them  "Night- 
Blooming  Lilies,"  and  sure  enough  they  blanketed 
the  rugged  pathway  that  night  like  so  many  tiny 
white  Fairies.  Indeed  there  was  something 
beautifully  weird  in  their  white  wonder  against 
the  night.  They  looked  like  frail,,  earth-angels 
playing  in  the  star-light,  sending  out  a  sweet 
odor  which  mingled  strangely  with  the  odor  of 
sulphur  from  the  volcano. 

And  back  of  all  this  was  the  background  of 
that  awful,  thundering,  rumbling  and  grumbling 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FLAME  23 

volcano  as  somber  as  suicide.  Strangely  weird 
flashes  lighted  the  mountains  for  miles  around. 

*'It  looks  like  heat  lightning  back  at  home,"  said 
an  American. 

"Only  the  flashes  are  more  vivid!"  said  an- 
other member  of  the  party. 

Those  flashes  of  light  from  the  inner  fires  of 
the  earth,  bursting  from  the  fissures  of  restless 
volcano  Bromo  shall  ever  remain,  like  some 
strange  glimpse  of  a  new  Inferno. 

Volcanic  Merapi,  another  belching  furnace  of 
Java,  gave  me  a  picture  of  a  flash-light  of  flame. 

The  night  that  we  stayed  up  on  the  old  temple 
of  Boroboedoer,  Merapi  was  unusually  active; 
and  now  and  then  its  flashes  of  flame  lighted  up 
the  whole  beautiful  valley  between  the  temple  and 
the  mountain. 

At  each  flash  of  fire,,  the  tall  Bamboo  and 
Cocoanut  trees  loomed  like  graceful  Javanese 
women  in  the  midst  of  far-reaching,  green,  rice 
paddies;  while  two  rivers  that  met  below  us, 
wound  under  that  light  like  two  silver  threads  in 
the  night. 

Once,  when  an  unusually  heavy  flash  came 
from  Merapi,  we  saw  below  us  a  beautiful  Java- 
nese girl  clasped  in  the  arms  of  her  brown  lover. 
Each  seemed  to  be  stark  naked  as  they  stood 
under  a  Cocoanut  tree  like  Rodin  bronzes. 

It  was  this  beautiful  girl's  voice  that  we  later 


24.    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

heard  singing  to  her  lover  a  Javanese  love  song 
in  the  tropical  night. 

This,  I  take  it,  was  the  Flame  of  Love;  a  flame 
which  lights  up  the  world  forever;  everywhere 
her  devotees,  clothed  or  naked,  are  the  same ;  for- 
ever and  a  day;  be  it  on  the  streets  of  Broadway; 
along  the  lanes  of  the  Berkshire  Hills  of  New 
England;  up  the  rugged  trails  of  the  Sierras;  or 
along  the  quiet,  tree-lined  streets  of  an  American 
village.  It  is  a  flame;  this  business  of  love;  a 
flame  which,  flashing  by  day  and  night,  lights  the 
world  to  a  new  glory. 

One  night  the  missionaries  in  Korea  saw  flames 
bursting  out  against  the  hills. 

"What  is  it?"  they  cried,  filled  with  fear. 

"The  Japanese  are  burning  the  Korean  vil- 
lages!" said  one  who  knew. 

All  night  long  the  villages  burned  and  all 
night  long  the  people  were  murdered.  Runners 
brought  news  to  the  hillsides  of  Seoul  where 
anxious,  broken-hearted  American  missionaries 
waited. 

"One,  two,  three,  four,  five;  ten,  fifteen,,  twen- 
ty; thirty,  forty,  fifty;  a  hundred,  two  hundred, 
three  hundred;  villages  are  burning,"  so  came 
the  messages. 

The  entire  peninsula  was  lighted  as  with  a 
great  holocaust. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FLAME  25 

It  is  said  that  the  light  could  be  seen  from 
Fusan  itself,  a  hundred  miles  away. 

"From  our  village  it  looked  like  a  light  over  a 
great  American  steel-mill  city,"  said  a  missionary 
to  me. 

And  when  the  morning  came,  the  flames  were 
still  leaping  high  against  the  crimson  sky  of 
dawn. 

For  days  this  burning  of  villages  continued. 
Belgium  never  saw  more  ruthless  flame  and  fire; 
set  by  sterner  souls ;  or  harder  hearts ! 

That  was  two  years  ago. 

The  villages  are  charred  ruins  now.  Some  of 
them  have  never  been  rebuilt.  The  murdered 
people  of  these  villages  have  gone  back  to  dust. 

The  Japanese  think  that  the  fires  are  out. 
They  thought,  when  the  flames  of  those  burning 
villages  ceased  leaping  into  the  skies ;  and  at  last 
were  but  smouldering  embers ;  that  the  flames  had 
died.  But  the  Japanese  were  wrong,  for  on  that 
very  day,  the  Flames  of  Freedom  began  to  burn 
in  Korean  hearts  and  souls !  And  from  that  day 
to  this ;  those  flames  have  been  rising  higher  and 
higher.  These  are  Flash-Lights  of  Flame  that, 
as  the  years  go  by;  mount,  like  bacon  lights  of 
hope  on  Korean  hills,  to  light  the  marching  dawn 
of  Korean  Independence. 


26    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

A  beautiful  Korean  custom  that  used  to  be; 
flashes  a  flame  of  fire  across  the  screen  of  his- 
tory. 

In  the  old  days  the  Korean  Emperor  used  to 
have  signals  of  fire  flashed  from  hill  to  hill  run- 
ning clear  from  the  Chinese  border  to  Seoul,  the 
Korean  caJpital.  This  signal  indicated  that  all 
was  well  along  the  borders  and  that  there  was  no 
danger  of  a  Chinese  invasion  from  the  north. 

Korea  has  always  been  a  bone  of  contention  be- 
tween China,  Russia  and  Japan.  Consequently 
this  little  peninsula  has  always  walked  on  uneasy 
paths,  which  is  ever  the  fate  of  a  buffer  state. 

Never  did  a  Korean  Emperor  go  to  sleep  in 
peace  until  he  looked  out  and  saw  that  the  signal 
fires  burned  on  the  beautiful  mountain  peaks  sur- 
rounding the  city  of  Seoul;  fires  indicating  that 
the  borders  were  safe  that  night  and  that  inmates 
of  the  palace  might  rest  in  peace  and  security. 

"It  must  have  been  a  beautiful  sight  to  have 
seen  the  light  flashing  on  the  mountain  peak  there 
to  the  north"  I  said  to  an  eighty-year  old  Korean 
patriarch. 

"It  meant  peace  for  the  night,"  he  answered. 
"It  was  beautiful.  I  often  long  to  see  those  fires 
of  old  burning  again  on  yonder  mountain." 

He  said  this  with  a  dramatic  wave  of  his  stately 
white  robed  arm. 

"The  sunsets  still  flame  from  that  western 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FLAME  27 

mountain  peak,  overlooking  your  city  beautiful !" 
I  said  with  a  smile. 

"Yes,  the  sunsets  still  flame  behind  that  peak," 
he  responded  with  a  far-away  look  in  his  aged 
eyes. 

"Perhaps  the  good  Christian  God  is  lighting 
the  fires  for  you  ?"  I  suggested. 

"Yes,  He,  the  good  Christian  God ;  is  still  light- 
ing the  fires  for  us ;  but  they  are  fires  of  freedom, 
fires  of  hope,  and  fires  of  Democracy!"  the  old 
man  said  with  a  new  light  in  his  own  flashing 
eyes. 

"And  fires  of  peace,"  I  added. 

"Yes,  fires  of  Peace  when  freedom  comes!" 
he  responded. 

But  whatever  the  political  implications  are; 
it  is  historically  true  that  this  old  custom  had 
existed  for  years  until  the  Japanese  took  pos- 
session of  Korea  and  stopped  this  beautiful  tradi- 
tion. 

But  behind  that  same  mountain  from  which  the 
bonfires  used  to  flash  in  the  olden  days ;  indicating 
that  the  frontiers  were  safe  for  the  night;  that 
no  enemy  hosts  were  invading  the  peninsula ;  be- 
hind that  mountain  the  fires  of  sunset  still  flame, 
flash,  flare,  and  die  away  in  the  somber  purple 
shadows  of  night. 


28    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

Nor  shall  one  forget  an  evening  at  Wanju;  a 
hundred  miles  from  Seoul ;  sitting  in  the  Mission 
House  looking  down  into  that  village  of  a  hun- 
dred thousand  souls;  watching  the  fires  of  eve- 
ning lighted;  watching  a  blanket  of  gray-blue 
smoke  slowly  lift  over  that  little  village;  watch- 
ing the  great  round  moon  slowly  rise  above  a  jut- 
ting peak  beyond  the  village  to  smile  down  on 
that  quiet.,  peaceful  scene  in  mid-December. 

Koreans  never  light  their  fires  until  evening 
comes  and  then  they  light  a  fire  at  one  end  of  the 
house,  under  the  floor  and  the  smoke  and  heat 
travel  the  entire  length  of  the  house  warming 
the  rooms.  It  is  a  poor  heat  maker  but  it  is  a 
picturesque  custom. 

Thousands  of  flames  lighted  up  the  sky  that 
night.  The  little  thatch  houses,  and  the  children 
in  their  quaint  garbs  moving  against  the  flames 
composed  a  strange  Oriental  Rembrandt  picture. 

•  ••••• 

Streets !     Streets !    Streets ! 

Lights !    Lights !    Lights ! 

Somehow  streets  and  lights  go  together. 

We  think  of  our  great  Broadway.  We  amile 
at  our  superior  ingenuity  when  we  think  of  the 
"Great  White  Way." 

But  for  sheer  beauty;  fascinating,  captivating, 
alluring,  beauty ;  give  me  the  Ginza  in  Tokyo  on 
a  summer  evening;  with  its  millions  of  twinkling 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FLAME  29 

little  lights  above  the  thousands  of  Oriental  shops; 
with  the  sound  of  bells,  the  whistle  of  salesmen, 
the  laughter  of  beautiful  Japanese  girls;  the 
clacking  of  dainty  feet  in  wooden  shoes;  and  the 
indefinable  essence  of  romance  that  hovers  over  a 
street  of  this  Oriental  type  at  night.  I'll  stake  the 
romance,  and  beauty  of  the  Ginza  in  Tokyo, 
against  any  street  in  the  world.  He  who  has 
looked  upon  the  Ginza  by  night,  has  a  Flash- 
Light  of  Flame;  of  tiny,  myriad  little  flaming 
lights;  burned  into  his  memory;  to  live  until  he 
sees  at  last  the  lighted  streets  of  Paradise  itself. 

Nor  are  the  clothes  of  the  Orient  without  their 
flaming  colors. 

The  beautiful  kimonos  of  the  Geisha  girls  of 
Japan;  the  crimson,  gold,  and  rose  glory  of  the 
Sing  Song  Girls  of  China;  the  flashing  reds  of 
the  brown-skinned  Spanish  belles  of  the  Philip- 
pines, as  they  glide,  like  wind-blown  Bamboo 
trees  through  the  streets;  and  the  lurid,  livid,, 
robes  which  men  and  women  alike  wear  in  Borneo 
and  Java.  In  fact  all  of  the  clothes  of  the  Orient, 
are  flame-clothes.  There  are  no  quiet  colors 
woven  into  the  gown  of  the  Oriental.  The  Orien- 
tal does  not  know  what  soft  browns  are.  Crim- 
son is  the  favorite  color  for  man  or  woman.  They 
even  make  their  sails  red,  blue,  green  and  yellow. 
The   beautiful   colors   of    the    sailboats    in    the 


so     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

harbor  of  Yokohama  is  one  of  the  first  flashing 
touches  of  the  Orient  that  a  traveler  gets.  From 
Japanese  Obies,  which  clasp  the  waists  of  Japan- 
ese girls,,  to  Javanese  Sarongs,  the  flame  and  flash 
of  crimson  predominates  in  the  gowns  of  both 
men  and  women.  Where  an  American  man 
would  blush  to  be  caught  in  any  sort  of  a  gown 
with  crimson  predominating  save  a  necktie,  the 
Japanese  gentlemen,  the  Filipino,  the  Malay,  and 
the  Javanese  all  wear  high  colors  most  of  the 
time.  And  the  women  are  like  splendid  flaming 
bushes  of  fire  all  the  time. 

A  Javanese  bride  is  all  flame  as  far  as  her 
dress  is  concerned.  Her  face  is  powdered;  her 
eyebrows  are  pencilled  a  coal  black ;  her  arms  and 
shoulders  daubed  with  a  yellow  grease.  As  to 
her  dress,  the  sarong  is  a  flaming  robe  that  covers 
her  body  to  the  breasts;  red  being  the  dominant 
color;  with  a  crown  of  metal  which  looks  like  a 
beehive  on  her  head.  Brass  bracelets  and  orna- 
ments on  her  graceful  arms  complete  her  costume. 

Even  the  Pagodas  and  Temples  of  the  Oriental 
lands  are  flame. 

The  most  beautiful  Temples  of  Japan  are  the 
Nikko  Temples. 

"See  Nikko  and  you  have  seen  Japan"  is  the 
saying  that  is  well  said. 

But  when  one  has  spent  weeks  or  a  week,  days 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FLAME  31 

or  a  day  at  Nikko;  he  comes  away  with  an  im- 
pression of  beautiful,  tall,  terraced,  red-lacquered 
Pagodas;  beautiful,  graceful  red-gowned  women; 
beautiful,  architectural  masterpieces  of  Oriental 
Temples;  all  finished  in  wonderful  red  lacquer; 
beautiful  red-cheeked  women  in  the  village  stores; 
beautiful  red  Kimonos  for  sale  in  the  Curio 
shops;  red  berries  burning  against  the  wonderful 
green  grass;  and  all  set  off,  against  and  under, 
and  crowned  by  wonderful  green  rows  of  great 
Cryptomaria  trees.  These  red  Temples  and  these 
Red  Pagodas — red  with  a  red  that  is  flaming 
splendor  of  the  last  word  in  the  lacquer  artist's 
skill;  are  like  beautiful  crimson  jewels  set  in  a 
setting  of  emerald. 

And  back  of  all  these  Flash-Lights  of  Flame 
one  remembers  the  path  of  a  single  star  on  the 
smooth  surface  of  Manila  Bay  at  night;  and  the 
phosphorescent  beauty  of  Manila  Bay  where 
great  ships  cleave  this  lake  of  fire  when  the  phos- 
phorus is  heavy  of  a  Summer  night;  and  every 
ripple  is  a  ripple  of  flame.  One  remembers  the 
continuous  flash  of  heat  lightning  down  in  Borneo 
and  on  Equatorial  Seas;  and  one  remembers  the 
Southern  Cross;  and  the  flash-lights  of  fire  in  a 
half-breed  woman's  eyes. 


CHAPTER   II 

FLASH-LIGHTS    PHYSICAL 

THE  red  dawn  of  tropical  Java  was  near. 
The  shadows  of  night  were  still  playing 
from  millions  of  graceful  Palm  trees  which 
swung  gently  in  the  winds  before  the  dawn. 

Three  ancient  volcanos,  still  rumbling  in 
blatant  activity,  loomed  like  gigantic  monsters  of 
the  underworld,  bulging  their  black  shoulders 
above  the  earth.  Before  us  lay  a  valley  of  green 
rice  paddies. 

We  had  roved  over  ancient  Boroboedoer  all 
night,  exploring  its  haunted  crannies  and  cor- 
ners, listening  to  its  weird  noises;  dreaming 
through  its  centuries  of  age;  climbing  its  seven 
terraces.  But  in  the  approaching  dawn,  the  one 
outstanding  thrill  of  the  night  was  that  of  a 
half -naked  Javanese  girl,  who  stood  for  an  hour, 
poised  in  her  brown  beauty  on  the  top  of  one  of 
the  Bells  of  Buddha,  with  some  weird  Javanese 
musical  instrument,  singing  to  the  dawn. 

Then  it  came. 

"What?    Her  lover?" 

33 


34    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

No!  The  dawn!  The  dawn  was  her  lover! 
Or,  perhaps  her  lover  was  old  Merapi. 

For,  there,  as  we  too,  climbed  to  her  strategic 
pinnacle  of  glory  on  top  of  the  Buddha  Bell  to 
watch  the  dawn  that  she  had  called  up  with  her 
weird  music  and  her  subtle  brown  beauty;  before 
us,,  stretched  thousands  of  acres  of  green  rice 
paddies,  spread  out  like  the  Emerald  lawn  of  an 
Emerald  Springtime  in  Heaven.  Below  us  two 
silver  streams  of  water  met  and  wedded,  to  go 
on  as  one. 

As  we  stood  there  that  morning  on  the  top  of 
Boroboedoer's  highest  bell,  lines  of  Edna  St. 
Vincent  Millay  swung  into  my  soul : 

"All  I  could  see  from  where  I  stood 
Was  three  tall  mountains  and  a  wood." 

Only  in  this  instance  all  I  could  see  were  three 
volcanos.  And  the  one  in  the  center,  old  Merapi 
was  belching  out  a  trail  of  black  smoke.  These 
three  volcanos,  take  turns  through  the  centuries. 
When  one  is  working  the  other  two  rest.  When 
one  ceases  its  activity,  one  of  the  others  takes  up 
the  thundering  anthem  and  carries  it  on  for  a  few 
years  or  centuries  and  then  lapses  into  silence, 
having  done  its  part.  While  we  were  there  it 
was  Merapi's  turn  to  thunder  and  on  this  par- 
ticular morning  Merapi  was  busy  before  day- 
light. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  PHYSICAL  36 

For  fifty  miles  along  the  horizon,  a  trail  of 
black  smoke  swept  like  the  trail  of  black  smoke 
which  a  train  leaves  in  its  wake  on  a  still  day. 
There  was  not  another  cloud  in  the  eastern  skies. 
Nothing  but  that  trail  of  black  smoke  as  we  stood 
on  the  top  of  Boroboedoer  at  dawn  and  watched. 

Then  something  happened.  It  was,  as  if  some 
magician  had  waved  a  magic  wand  back  of  the 
mountain.  The  rising  sun  was  the  magician.  We 
saw  its  heralds  spreading  out,  like  great  golden 
fan-ribs  with  the  cone  of  the  volcano,  its  direct 
center  of  convergence.  Then  before  our  aston- 
ished, our  utterly  bewildered,  and  our  fascinated 
eyes,  that  old  volcanic  cone  was  changed  to  a  cone 
of  gold.  Then  the  golden  cone  commenced  to 
belch  forth  golden  smoke.  And  finally  the  trail 
of  smoke  for  fifty  miles  along  the  horizon  be- 
came a  trail  of  golden  smoke. 

This  was  a  Flash-Light  that  literally  burned 
its  way  into  our  memories  to  remain  forever. 

There  is  another  Flash-Light  Physical  which 
has  to  do  with  another  volcano  which  I  mentioned 
in  the  preceding  chapter.  Bromo  is  its  name. 
It  is  still  there,  down  on  the  extreme  eastern  end 
of  Java,  unless  in  the  meantime  the  old  rascal  has 
taken  it  into  his  demoniacal  head  to  blow  himself 
to  pieces  as  he  threatened  to  do  the  day  we  lay  on 
our  stomachs,  holding  on  to  the  earth,  with  the 
sides  trembling  beneath  us. 


36    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

Old  Bromo  was  well  named.  It  reminds  one 
of  Bromo-Seltzer.  I  had  heard  of  him  long  be- 
fore I  reached  Java.  I  had  heard  of  the  Sand 
Plains  down  into  the  midst  of  whose  silver  white- 
ness he  was  set,  like  a  great  conical  gem  of  dark 
purple  by  day  and  fire  by  night. 

Travelers  said  "You  must  see  Bromo!  You 
must  see  Bromo!  If  you  miss  everything  else 
see  Bromo!  It's  the  most  completely  satisfac- 
tory volcano  in  the  world." 

It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  we 
started  on  little  rugged  Javanese  ponies  up 
Bromo's  steep  slopes. 

At  daybreak  we  reached  the  mile  high  cliff 
which  looks  down  into  the  world-famous  Sand 
Sea.  It  was  a  sea  of  white  fog.  I  have  seen  the 
same  thing  at  the  Grand  Canyon  and  in  Yosemite 
looking  down  from  the  rims.  I  thought  of  these 
great  American  canyons  as  I  looked  down  into 
the  Bromo  Sand  Sea.  By  noon  this  was  a  great 
ten-mile  long  valley  of  silver  sand  which  glittered 
in  the  sunlight  like  a  great  silver  carpeted  ball- 
room floor.  Tourists  from  all  over  the  world 
have  thrilled  to  its  strange  beauty.  Like  the  gown 
of  some  great  and  ancient  queen  this  silver  cloth 
lies  there ;  or  like  some  great  silver  rug  of  Oriental 
weaving  it  carpeted  that  valley  floor  at  noon. 

But  at  daybreak  it  was  a  sea  of  mist  into  which 
it  looked  as  if  one  might  plunge,  naked  to  the  skin 


FLASH-LIGHTS  PHYSICAL  37 

and  wash  his  soul  clean  of  its  tropical  sweat  and 
dirt;  a  fit  swimming  pool  for  the  gods  of  Java, 
of  whom  there  are  so  many. 

Then  something  happened  as  we  stood  looking 
down  into  that  smooth  sea  of  white  fog,  rolling 
in  great  billows  below  us.  There  was  a  sudden 
roar  as  if  an  entire  Hindenburg  line  had  let  loose 
with  its  "Heavies."  There  was  a  sudden  and 
terrific  trembling  of  the  earth  under  our  feet 
which  made  us  jump  back  from  that  precipice  in 
terror. 

Then  slowly,  as  if  it  were  on  a  great  mechanical 
stage,  the  perfect  cone  of  old  rumbling  Bromo, 
from  which  curled  a  thin  wisp  of  black  smoke, 
bulged  its  way  out  of  the  center  of  that  sea  of 
white  fog,  rising  gradually  higher  and  higher 
as  though  the  stage  of  the  morning  had  been  set, 
the  play  had  begun,  and  unseen  stage  hands  be- 
hind the  curtain  of  fog,  with  some  mighty  derrick 
and  tremendous  power  were  lifting  a  huge  vol- 
cano as  a  stage  piece. 

Then  came  the  quick,  burning  tropical  sun,, 
shooting  above  the  eastern  horizon  as  suddenly 
as  the  volcanic  cone  had  been  lifted  above  the 
fog.  This  hot  sun  burned  away  the  mists  in  a  few 
minutes  and  there,  stretching  below  us,  in  all  its 
oriental  beauty  was  the  sinewy,  voluptuous  form 
of  the  silver  sand  sea — Bromo's  subtle  mistress. 


38    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

There  is  another  Physical  Flash-light  that  will 
never  die. 

Coming  out  of  the  Singapore  Straits  one  eve- 
ning at  sunset,  bound  for  the  island  of  Borneo 
across  the  South  China  Sea,  I  was  sitting  on  the 
upper  deck  of  a  small  Dutch  ship.  The  canvas 
flapped  in  the  winds.  A  cool,  tropical  breeze 
fanned  our  faces.  Back  of  us  in  our  direct  wake 
a  splashing,  tumbling,  tumultuous  tropical  sunset 
flared  across  the  sky.  It  was  crimson  glory.  In 
the  direct  path  of  the  crimson  sun  a  lighthouse 
flashed  its  blinking  eyes  like  a  musical  director 
with  his  baton  beating  time. 

I  watched  this  flashing,  lesser,  light  against  the 
crimson  sunset  and  was  becoming  fascinated  by 
it. 

Then  great  black  clouds  began  to  roll  down 
over  that  crimson  background  as  if  they  were 
huge  curtains,  rolled  down  from  above,  to  change 
the  setting  of  the  western  stage  for  another  act. 

But  as  they  rolled  they  formed  strange  and 
beautiful  Doric  columns  against  the  crimson  skies 
and  before  I  knew  it,  I  was  looking  at  the  ruins 
of  an  old  Greek  temple  in  the  sky.  Then  the  black 
clouds  formed  a  perfect  hour-glass  reaching  from 
the  sea  to  the  sky,  with  its  background  of  crimson 
glory,  and  the  little  lighthouse  seemed  to  be  flash- 
ing off  the  minutes  in  the  arteries  of  that  hour- 
glass. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  PHYSICAL  39 

And  then  it  was  night — a  deep,  dense,  tropical 
night;  heavy  with  darkness;  rich  with  perfume; 
weird  with  mystery.  But  the  sunset  of  crimson; 
the  Doric  temple  in  ruins;  the  hour-glass;  and 
the  flashing  lighthouse  still  remained. 

And  who  shall  ever  forget  the  sunsets  of  gold 
across  Manila  Bay  night  after  night;  with  great 
warships  and  majestic  steamers,  sleek  and  slender 
cutters,  white  sails,  long  reaching  docks,  and 
graceful  Filipino  women,  silhouetted  against  the 
gold?  And  who  shall  forget  the  domes,  towers, 
and  pinnacles  of  the  Cathedrals;  and  the  old  fort 
within  the  city  walls  as  they  too  were  silhouetted 
against  the  gold  of  the  evening? 

•  ••••• 

Mt.  Taishan,  the  oldest  worshiping  place  on 
earth,  not  far  from  the  birthplace  of  Confucius; 
in  Shantung;  is  one  of  the  most  sacred  shrines  of 
the  Orient.  There,  countless  millions,  for  hun- 
dreds of  centuries,  have  climbed  over  six  thou- 
sand granite  steps,  up  its  mile  high  slope  to  pay 
their  vows ;  to  catch  a  view  of  the  blue  sea  from 
its  imminence;  to  feel  the  sweep,  wonder  and 
glory  of  its  sublime  height,  knowing  that  Con- 
fucius himself  gloried  in  this  climb.  The  exalta- 
tion of  that  glorious  view;  shall  live,  side  by  side, 
with  the  view  from  the  top  of  the  Black  Diamond 
range  in  Korea  one  winter's  night  as  we  caught 


40     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

the  full  sweep  of  the  Japan  Sea  by  sunset.  In  fact 
these  all  shall  live  as  great  mountain  top  Physical 
Flash-Lights  etched  with  the  acid  of  a  burning 
wonder  into  one's  soul! 

Nor  shall  one  ever  forget  a  month's  com- 
munion with  Fujiyama,  that  solitary,  great  and 
worshiped  mountain  of  Japan;  sacred  as  a 
shrine;  beautiful  with  snow;  graceful  as  a 
Japanese  woman's  curving  cheek;  bronzed  by 
summer;  belted  with  crimson  clouds  by  sunset 
like  a  Japanese  woman's  Obie.  It,  too,  presented 
its  unforgettable  Physical  Flash-Lights. 

The  first  glimpse  was  one  of  untold  spun-gold 
glory.    There  it  stood. 

"There  it  is!  There  it  is!  Look!"  a  fellow 
traveler  cried. 

"There  is  what?"  I  called.  We  were  on  top  of 
a  great  American  College  building  in  Tokyo. 

"It's  Fuji!" 

I  had  given  up  hope.  We  had  been  there  two 
weeks  and  Fujiyama  was  not  to  be  seen.  The 
mists.,  fogs,  and  clouds  of  winter  had  kept  it 
hidden  from  our  wistful,  wondering,  waiting 
eyes. 

But  there  it  stood,  like  a  naked  man,  un- 
ashamed; proud  of  its  white  form;  without  a 
single  cloud;  burning  in  the  white  sunlight.  Its 
huge  shoulders  were  thrown  back  as  with  sup- 
pressed strength.    Its  white  chest,  a  Walt  W^hit- 


FLASH-LIGHTS  PHYSICAL  41 

man  hairy  with  age;  gray-breasted  with  snow; 
bulged  out  like  some  mighty  wrestler,  challenging 
the  world.    No  wonder  they  worship  it ! 

I  had  gloried  in  Fujiyama  from  many  a  varied 
viewpoint.  I  had  caught  this  great  shrine  of 
Japanese  devotion  in  many  of  its  numberless 
moods.  I  had  seen  it  outlined  against  a  clear-cut 
morning  sunlight,  bathed  in  the  glory  of  a  broad- 
side of  light  fired  from  the  open  muzzle  of  the 
sun.  I  had  seen  it  shrouded  in  white  clouds ;  and 
also  with  black  clouds  breeding  a  storm,  at  even- 
time.  I  had  seen  it  with  a  crown  of  white  upon 
its  brow,  and  I  had  seen  it  with  a  necklace  of 
white  cloud  pearls  about  its  neck. 

Once  I  saw  this  great  mountain  looking  like 
some  ominous  volcano  through  a  misty  gray  win- 
ter evening.  And  one  mid-afternoon  I  saw  it  al- 
most circled  by  a  misty  rainbow,  a  sight  never  to 
be  forgotten  on  earth  or  in  heaven  by  one  whose 
soul  considers  a  banquet  of  beauty  more  worth 
shouting  over  than  an  invitation  to  feast  with  a 
King. 

But  the  last  sight  I  caught  of  Fuji  was  the  last 
night  that  I  was  in  Tokyo.,  as  I  rode  up  from  the 
Ginza  on  New  Year's  eve  out  toward  Aoyama 
Gakuin,  straight  into  a  sunset,  unsung,  unseen  by 
mortal  eye. 

Before  me  loomed  the  great  mountain  like  a 


42     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

monstrous  mass  of  mighty  ebony  carved  by  some 
delicate  and  yet  gigantic  artist's  hand. 

I  soon  discovered  where  the  artist  got  the  ebony 
from  which  to  carve  this  pointed  mountain  of 
ebony  with  its  flat  top;  for  far  above  this  black 
silhouetted  mountain  was  a  mass  of  ebony  clouds 
that  seemed  to  spread  from  the  western  horizon 
clear  to  the  rim  of  the  eastern  horizon  and  beyond 
into  the  unseen  Sea  of  Japan  in  the  back  yard  of 
the  island.  It  was  from  this  mass  of  coal-black 
midnight-black  clouds  that  the  giant  artist  carved 
his  ebony  Fuji  that  night. 

But  not  all  was  black.  Perhaps  the  giant 
forged  that  mountain  rather  than  carved  it,  for 
there  was  a  blazing  furnace  behind  Fuji.  And 
this  furnace  was  belching  fire.  It  was  not  crim- 
son. It  was  not  gold.  It  was  not  red.  It  was 
fire. 

It  was  furnace  fire.  It  was  a  Pittsburgh  blast- 
furnace ten  thousand  times  as  big  as  all  of  Pitts- 
burgh itself,  belching  fire  and  flames  of  sparks. 
These  sparks  were  flung  against  the  evening 
skies.  Some  folks,  I  fancy,  on  that  memorable 
night  called  them  stars ;  but  I  know  better.  They 
were  giant  sparks  flung  from  that  blast-furnace 
which  was  booming  and  roaring  behind  Fuji.  I 
could  not  hear  it  roar;  that  is  true;  but  I  could 
feel  it  roar.  I  could  not  hear  it  because  even  so 
great  a  sound  as  that  furnace  must  have  been 


FLASH-LIGHTS  PHYSICAL  43 

making  will  not  travel  sixty  miles,  even  though  it 
was  as  still  up  there  in  the  old  theological  tower 
as  a  country  cemetery  by  winter  down  in  Rhode 
Island  when  the  snow  covers  the  graves. 

Then  suddenly  a  flare  of  fire  shot  up  directly 
behind  the  cone  of  Fuji,  flaming  into  the  coal- 
bank  of  clouds  above  the  mountain,  as  if  the  old 
shaggy  seer  had  forgotten  his  age  and  was  dream- 
ing of  youth  again  when  the  earth  was  young  and 
he  was  a  volcano. 

Above  that  streak  of  fire  and  mingled  with  it, 
black  smoke  seemed  to  pour  until  it  formed  a  flat 
cloud  of  black  smoke  directly  above  the  cone,  and 
spread  out  like  a  fan  across  the  sky  to  give  the 
giant  artist  further  ebony  to  shape  his  mountain 
monument. 

Then  Fuji  suddenly  belched  its  volcano  of  color 
and  lava;  of  rose  and  gold,  amber,  salmon,  prim- 
rose, sapphire,  marigold;  and  in  a  stream  these 
poured  over  Fuji's  sides  and  down  along  the 
ridge-line  of  the  lesser  hills  until  they  too  were 
covered  with  a  layer  of  molten  glory  a  mile  thick. 

The  clouds  above  Fuji  forgot  to  be  black.  In 
fact,  their  mood  of  suUenness  departed  as  by 
magic,  and  a  smile  swept  over  their  massive  mood 
of  moroseness,  and  glory  swept  the  skies.  It  was 
as  if  that  furnace  behind  Fuji  had  suddenly  burst, 
throwing  its  molten  fire  over  the  hills,,  the  moun- 
tains, the  sky,  the  world. 


44    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

And  "mine  eyes"  had  "seen  the  glory  of  the 
coming  of  the  Lord."  And  that  was  enough  for 
any  man  for  one  lifetime. 

•  ••••• 

Then  there  is  beautiful  Boroboedoer  down  in 
Java.  It  is  a  Physical  Flash-Light  that  looms  with 
its  huge  and  mysterious  historical  architectural 
beauty  like  some  remnant  of  the  age  when  the 
gods  of  Greece  roamed  the  earth.  A  sunrise 
from  its  pinnacled  height  I  have  already  de- 
scribed, but  the  temple  itself  is  unforgettable. 
There  is  nothing  like  it  on  the  earth. 

Boroboedoer  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  the 
world,  although  little  known.  It  is  in  the  gen- 
eral shape  of  the  pyramid  of  Egypt,  but  more 
beautiful.  One  writer  says,  "Boroboedoer  repre- 
sents more  human  labor  and  artistic  skill  than  the 
great  pyramids."  Mr.  Alfred  Russel  Wallace 
says:  "The  human  labor  and  skill  expended  on 
Boroboedoer  is  so  great  that  the  labor  expended 
on  the  great  pyramid  sinks  into  significance  be- 
side it." 

Boroboedoer  was  built  in  the  seventh  century 
A.D.,  by  the  Javanese  under  Hindu  culture. 
Then  came  the  Mohammedan  invasion,  destroying 
all  such  works  of  art  in  its  pathway. 

It  is  said  that  the  priests  so  loved  this  beautiful 
Buddha  temple  that  they  covered  it  over  with 
earth  and  then  planted  trees  and  tropical  vegeta- 


FLASH-LIGHTS  PHYSICAL  45 

tion  on  it.  In  six  months  it  was  so  overgrown  that 
it  looked  like  a  hill.  This  is  one  explanation  of 
why  it  lay  for  a  thousand  years  unknown. 

The  volcanic  ashes  undoubtedly  helped  in  this 
secretion,  for  old  Merapi  even  now  belches  its 
ashes,,  rocks  and  dust  out  over  the  beautiful  valley 
down  upon  which  Merapi  looks. 

From  Djod Jakarta  you  go  to  the  temples. 

This  great  temple  has,  instead  of  the  plain  sur- 
faces of  the  great  pyramid,  one  mile  of  beauti- 
fully carved  decorations,  with  2 141  separate 
panels  depicting  the  life  of  Buddha  from  the  time 
he  descended  from  the  skies  until  he  arrived  at 
Nirvana,  or  perfect  isolation  from  the  world.  A 
history  of  more  than  a  thousand  years  is  told  in 
its  stone  tablets  by  the  sculptor's  chisel,  told  beau- 
tifully, told  enduringly,  told  magnificently. 

One  writer  says:  "This  temple  is  the  work  of 
a  master-builder  whose  illuminated  brain  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  this  temple  wherein  he  writes 
in  sculpture  the  history  of  a  religion." 

And  again  one  says  architecturally  speaking 
of  it: 

*Tt  is  a  polygonous  pyramid  of  dark  trachyte, 
with  gray  cupulas  on  jutting  walls  and  projecting 
cornices,  a  forest  of  pinnacles." 

There  are  four  ledges  to  this  hill  temple  and 
above  each  ledge  or  stone  path  are  rows  of  Bud- 
dhas  hidden  in  great  5- foot  stone  bells,  and  at  the 


46     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

top  crowning  the  temple  a  great  50-foot  bell  in 
which  Buddha  is  completely  hidden   from  the 
world,  symbol  of  the  desired  Nirvana  that  all 
Buddhists  seek. 

Mysterious  with  weird  echoes  of  a  past  age  it 
stands,  silhouetted  against  a  flaming  sky  to-night 
as  I  see  it  for  the  first  time.  It  is  late  evening 
and  all  day  long  we  have  been  climbing  the 
ancient  ruins  of  that  magnificent  age  of  Hindu 
culture  on  the  island  of  Java.  This  temple  of 
Boroboedoer  was  to  be  the  climax  of  the  day,  and 
surely  it  is  all  of  that. 

The  fire  dies  out  of  the  sky.  The  seven  terraces 
of  the  stone  temple  begin  to  blur  into  one  great 
and  beautiful  pyramid.  Only  the  innumerable 
stone  bells  stand  out  against  the  starHt  night; 
stone  bells  with  the  little  peepholes  in  them, 
through  which  the  stolid  countenances  and  the 
stone  eyes  of  many  Buddhas,  in  calm  repose, 
look  out  upon  the  four  points  of  the  compass. 

Night  has  fallen.  We  have  seen  the  great 
Temple  by  crimson  sunset  and  now  we  shall  see 
it  by  night. 

The  shadows  seem  to  wrap  its  two  thousand 
exquisite  carvings,  and  its  Bells  of  Buddha  in 
loving  and  warm  tropical  embrace.  But  no 
warmer,  is  the  embrace  of  the  shadows  about  the 
Temple  than  the  naked  embrace  of  a  score  of 
Javanese  bovs  who  hold  to  their  hearts  naked 


FLASH-LIGHTS  PHYSICAL  47 

Javanese  beauties  who  sit  along  the  terraces  look- 
ing into  the  skies  of  night  utterly  oblivious  to  the 
passing  of  time  or  of  the  presence  of  curious 
American  strangers. 

Love  is  such  a  natural  thing  to  these  Javanese 
equatorial  brown  brawn  and  beauties  that  un- 
abashed they  lie,  on  Buddha's  silent  bells,,  breast 
to  breast.,  cheek  to  cheek,  and  limb  to  limb;  as  if 
they  have  swooned  away  in  the  warmth  of  the 
tropical  night. 

The  Southern  Cross  looks  down  upon  lover  and 
tourist  as  we  all  foregather  on  the  topmost  ter- 
race of  that  gigantic  shadow-pyramid  of  granite. 

The  sound  of  the  innumerable  naked  footsteps 
of  all  past  ages  seems  to  patter  along  the  stone 
terraces.  Now  and  then  the  twang  of  the  Java- 
nese angklong  and  the  beautiful  notes  of  a  flute 
sweep  sweetly  into  the  shadowed  air. 

Then  comes  the  dancing  of  a  half  dozen  Java- 
nese dancing  girls,  naked  to  the  waist,  their  crim- 
son and  yellow  sarongs  flying  in  the  winds  of 
night,  as,  in  slow,  graceful  movements,  facing  one 
of  the  Bells  of  Buddha  they  pay  their  vows  and 
offer  their  bodies  and  their  souls  to  Buddha ;  and 
evidently,  also  to  the  Javanese  youths  who  ac- 
company them  in  their  dances. 

The  sound  of  the  voices  of  these  Javanese 
girls — who  in  the  shadows  look  for  all  the  world 
like  figures  that  Rodin  might  have  dreamed — 


48     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

mingling  their  laughter  with  the  weird  music; 
shall  linger  long  in  one's  memory  of  beautiful 
things. 

Their  very  nakedness  seemed  to  fit  in  with  the 
spirit  of  the  night ;  a  spirit  of  complete  abandon- 
ment to  beauty  and  worship.  In  their  attitudes 
there  seemed  to  be  a  mingling  of  religion  and 
earthly  passion ;  but  it  was  so  touched  with  rever- 
ence that  we  felt  no  shock  to  our  American  sensi- 
bilities. 

All  night  long  we  wandered  about  the  terraces 
of  the  old  Temple. 

We  wondered  how  long  the  Javanese  girls 
would  remain. 

At  dawn  when  we  arose  to  see  Boroboedoer 
by  daylight  they  were  still  there  as  fresh  as  the 
dawn  itself  in  their  brown  beauty,  the  dew  of 
night  glistening  in  their  black  hair  and  wetting 
their  full  breasts. 

And  across,  from  Boroboedoer  the  sun,  in  its 
dawning  splendor,  was  transforming  belching 
and  rumbling  old  volcanic  Merapi  into  a  cone  of 
gold. 


LOOKING    OVER   THE    WALLED    CITY    OF    MANILA,    AMERICAN    SOL- 
DIERS  SCALED  THIS   WALL   A  FEW  YEARS   AGO  TO   STAY. 


BEAUTU'UL    FILIFIITO    OIBL8    ALL    OF    WHOM    SPEAK    BXQLIBH. 


KOKEAX    OIBLS    WITH    AMERICAK    IDEALS    AXD   TRAINIXO. 


STEPPING     ASIDE     IN      KOREA     TO     LET     THE     AMEBICAK     DEVIL 
WAOOK  QO  BY. 


CHAPTER  III 

FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAITH 

HE  was  an  old  man;  gray-haired,  gray- 
bearded;  gray-gowned;  and  he  knew  that 
the  Japanese  Gendarmes  would  just  as  soon  take 
his  life  as  light  a  cigarette.  They  do  each  with 
inhumane  impunity.  One  means  as  much  to  them 
as  the  other. 

He  was  under  arrest  for  conspiracy  in  the 
Independence  Movement. 

"Do  you  know  about  the  Independence  Move- 
ment?" he  was  asked. 

"Yes,  I  know  all  about  it,"  was  his  fearless 
reply;  though  he  knew  that  that  reply  in  itself 
might  mean  his  death;  even  without  trial  or 
further  evidence.  Just  the  fact  that  he  had  ad- 
mitted that  he  knew  anything  at  all  about  the 
movement  was  enough  to  throw  him  into  prison. 
He  was  like  an  old  Prophet  in  his  demeanor. 
Something  about  the  very  dignity  and  sublime 
Faith  of  the  man  awed  the  souls  of  these  crude 
barbarians  from  the  Island  Empire. 

"Since  when  was  it  begun?"  asked  the  Gen- 
darmes. 

49 


50     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

"Since  ten  years  ago  when  you  Japanese  first 
came  to  Korea,"  was  the  dignified  reply. 

''From  whence  did  it  spring?"  he  was  asked 
next. 

"From  the  hearts  of  twenty  million  people!" 

"Did  twenty  millions  of  people  all  get  together 
then,  and  plan  ?" 

"Not  together  in  body  but  in  spirit!" 

"But  there  must  have  been  some  men  to  start 
it  ?"  the  Japanese  Gendarme  said. 

"They  all  started  it !"  was  the  old  man's  reply. 

"Is  there  no  one  who  had  charge  of  this  move- 
ment from  the  beginning?" 

"Yes,,  there  is  one!" 

"Do  you  know  him?" 

"I  know  him  well !" 

"What  is  his  name?" 

"His  name  is  God !"  said  this  seventy-year  old, 
fearless  Christian  Korean  Patriot. 

Such  faith  as  I  have  indicated  in  the  para- 
graphs above  is  a  common  thing  in  Korea.  Never 
in  the  history  of  the  world  have  Christian  people 
been  subjected  to  the  same  tortures,  the  same 
cruelties,  the  same  terrors,  for  their  Faith  as 
the  early  Christian  martyrs;  save  these;  the 
Koreans. 

We  had  thought  that  the  world  had  gotten 
past  that  day  when  men  would  be  tortured, 
crushed,  persecuted,  and  killed  because  they  were 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAITH  51 

Christians  but  that  day  is  not  )^t  past  as  almost 
any  American  Missionary  in  Korea  will  testify. 

The  Japanese  officials  will  say  that  there  is  no 
persecution  because  of  Christianity;  but  mission- 
aries in  Korea  know  better.  They  will  point  to 
countless  incidents  when  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren have  been  hounded,  and  persecuted  for  no 
other  reason  than  that  they  were  Christians. 

"And  when  Jesus  heard  it.  He  marveled  greatly 
and  said  to  them  that  followed,  Verily  I  say  unto 
you  I  have  not  found  so  great  faith,  no,  not  in 
Israel !"  might  well  be  said  of  the  Korean  Chris- 
tians every  hour,  every  minute.,  every  second. 
They  know  what  it  means  to  die  for  their  Faith. 

The  story  of  Pak  Suk  Han  is  one  of  the  most 
thrilling  illustrations  of  Faith  that  I  have  ever 
heard  in  Oriental  lands.  He  had  been  a  Chris- 
tian since  he  was  seven  years  of  age.  He  was  a 
brilliant  speaker  and  the  Assistant  Pastor  of  the 
First  Methodist  Church  at  Pyeng  Yang,  where, 
even  the  non-Christians  loved  him.  He  was 
arrested  on  Independence  Day  and  sent  to  prison 
where  a  barbarous  Japanese  officer,  whom  the 
natives  called  "The  Brute"  kicked  him  in  the 
side  because  he  would  not  give  up  his  Christ. 
From  that  kick  and  further  inhuman  treatment 
running  over  a  period  of  six  months;  a  disease 
developed  which  a  most  reliable  missionary  doc- 
tor told  me  ended  Pak  Suk  Han's  life. 


52     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

When  he  knew  that  he  was  about  to  die  he  said, 
"I  have  been  a  Christian  and  have  served  the 
church  since  I  was  seven  years  old.  I  have  given 
my  life  to  Christ,  all  but  the  last  six  months  in 
prison  which  I  have  given  to  my  country.  I  have 
no  regrets.  I  might  have  lived  had  I  been  willing 
to  deny  my  nation's  rights  and  give  up  my  Christ. 
I  am  going  home  to  my  Father's  house.  Good- 
by!"  No  Christian  martyrs  in  the  early  cen- 
turies of  the  persecutions  by  Rome  ever  died 
with  greater  glory  in  their  souls ;  or  with  deeper 
Faith! 

•  ••••• 

The  temperature  was  zero. 

The  cold  had  swept  down  over  night  from  the 
Siberian  and  Manchurian  plains  across  the  city 
of  Seoul.  The  capital  city  of  Korea  was  shiver- 
ing with  cold.  But  it  was  vibrant  with  something 
else.  It  was  vibrant  with  a  great  sense  of  some- 
thing impending. 

There  were  those  who  said  that  the  restlessness 
in  the  souls  of  the  Koreans  had  died  down  with 
the  terrible  days  of  the  March  Independence 
Movement;  but  I  knew  that  the  faith  of  the  people 
was  deeper  than  that.  I  knew  that  the  flame  of 
faith  was  just  smouldering. 

I  sensed  this  from  the  conversation  of  old-time 
missionaries  who  had  been  in  Korea  from  the 
very  beginning.     I  sensed  it  in  the  conversation 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAITH  53 

of  young  Koreans  who  had  graduated  from 
American  schools.  It  was  there;  a  vibrant,  liv- 
ing, pulsing,  faith  in  God  and  in  the  justice  of 
their  hopes :  the  Independence  of  Korea. 

The  whole  thing  was  summed  up  for  me  in  a 
flash.  It  was  a  flash  of  the  light  of  a  tremendous 
faith  that  blinded  mine  eyes  for  a  day;  but  my 
soul  it  lighted  as  with  a  great  eternal  light. 

A  Korean  boy  stepped  into  the  home  of  a  mis- 
sionary friend  of  mine,  whose  name  I  dare  not 
use.  If  I  did  he  would  likely  be  sent  home  by  the 
Japanese.    Men  have  been  sent  home  for  less. 

The  snow  crunched  under  his  feet  as  he  walked 
up  across  the  yard  and  the  porch.  He  knocked 
at  the  door. 

"Come  in,"  said  the  missionary,  kindly. 

The  boy  stepped  in.  The  missionary  had  never 
seen  him  before.  The  boy  was  moved  deeply  as 
with  a  great  emotion.  He  seemed  to  have  carried 
into  that  quiet  missionary  home  with  him  some 
of  the  tenseness  of  the  outside  air  and  some  of  the 
tenseness  of  the  political  situation. 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  the  missionary. 

"I  want  to  talk  with  you  about  something  very 
important,"  he  replied  in  Korean. 

"All  right!  Go  ahead!  Do  not  be  afraid.  I 
am  your  friend !" 

"So  I  know.    All  missionaries  are  our  friends." 

"Then  you  need  not  be  afraid  to  talk." 


54)     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

"No !"  said  the  boy.  But  he  did  not  talk.  His 
agitation  was  growing  more  marked. 

**Go  on,  my  boy!    Tell  me  what  you  came  for." 

The  Korean  boy  looked  at  the  half  open  door 
which  led  into  the  kitchen.  The  missionary,  with- 
out a  word,,  stepped  over  and  closed  that  door,  be- 
cause he  understood. 

The  boy  himself  closed  a  door  which  led  into 
the  missionary's  study.  For  in  Korea  in  these 
days  no  home;  not  even  a  missionary's  home,  is 
free  from  spies. 

The  boy  started  to  talk  hurriedly.  The  mis- 
sionary soon  saw  that  he  was  not  talking  about 
the  thing  that  he  had  come  for. 

"Come  to  the  point !  Come  to  the  point !  You 
did  not  come  to  me,  in  such  secrecy,  to  talk  com- 
monplace things  like  that!"  said  the  missionary 
a  bit  sharply. 

Then  the  boy  suddenly  dropped  to  his  knees  be- 
hind the  missionary's  desk  and  whipped  out  a  big 
knife.  Then  he  took  from  his  white  gown  a  long 
piece  of  white  cloth.  This  he  laid  out  on  the 
floor.  Then  he  opened  his  sharp  knife  with  a 
quick  motion  and  before  the  missionary  knew  it, 
he  had  ripped  the  index  finger  of  his  right  hand, 
from  the  tip  to  the  palm,  clear  to  the  bone,  until 
the  blood  spurted  all  over  the  floor. 

"What  are  you  doing,  my  boy?"  cried  the  mis- 
sionary. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAITH  55 

The  boy  smiled  a  sublime  smile  and  then  knelt 
on  his  knees  over  the  white  cloth  and  before  the 
missionary's  tear-misty  eyes  wrote  across  the 
immaculate  cloth  in  his  own  blood  the  words: 
"Mansei!  Mansei!  Mansei!  Korean  Inde- 
pendence Forever!    Self-determination!" 

Then  underneath  these  words  in  a  few  swift 
strokes  in  his  own  blood  he  drew  a  picture  of  the 
Korean  flag.  And  as  he  drew,  now  and  then  the 
blood  would  not  flow  fast  enough ;  and  he  took  his 
knife,  as  one  primes  a  fountain  pen;  and  cut  a  bit 
deeper  to  open  new  veins  in  order  that  the  flag  of 
his  country  and  the  declaration  of  his  faith  might 
be  written  in  the  deepest  colors  that  his  own 
veins  could  furnish. 

Finally,  after  what  seemed  hours  he  jumped 
to  his  feet  and  handed  the  missionary  that  flag; 
crying  as  he  did  so :  "That  is  our  faith !  That  is 
the  way  we  Koreans  feel !  You  are  going  back  to 
America!  We  want  America  to  know  that  our 
faith  in  the  Independence  of  Korea  has  not  died! 
The  fire  burns  higher  to-day  than  ever.  The 
Japanese  cruelties  are  worse!  The  need  is 
greater!  The  oppression  is  more  terrible!  Our 
determination  is  deeper  than  ever  before !  I  have 
come  here  this  day,  knowing  that  you  are  going 
back  to  America ;  I  came  to  write  these  words  in 
my  own  blood  that  you  may  know;  and  that 
America  may  know;  that  our  faith  is  a  flame 


156    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

which  burns  out  like  the  beacon  lights  on  the 
Korean  hills,  never  to  die!" 

The  most  scintillating  Flash-light  of  Faith  that 
I  saw  in  the  Orient  was  in  the  Philippine  Islands. 
We  were  traveling  the  jungle  trail  to  visit  a  tribe 
of  naked  Negritos.  These  are  diminutive  people 
who  look  like  American  negroes  only  they  are 
much  smaller;  much  more  underfed,  and  who 
live  in  trees  very  much  like  the  Orangutans  of 
Borneo.  They  eat  roots  and  nuts.  They  hunt 
with  bows  and  arrows. 

They  are  the  lowest  tribe  in  mentality  on  the 
Islands. 

It  was  a  terribly  hot,  tropical  day  and  I  had  a 
sunstroke  on  the  way  up  the  mountainside  to 
this  Negrito  village. 

I  did  not  expect  to  get  back  alive. 

For  three  solid  hours  under  a  killing  tropical 
sun,  without  the  proper  cork  helmet  and  protec- 
tion, a  pile  driver  kept  hammering  down  on  my 
head.  I  felt  it  at  every  step  I  took.  Finally  I 
dropped  unconscious  on  the  trail.  After  several 
hours  I  was  able  to  proceed  to  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  where  the  Negritos  were  camped. 

We  got  there  about  two  o'clock  and  had  lunch. 
As  we  ate  about  fifty  Negritos  swarmed  about  us. 

They  were  a  horrible  looking  crowd;  stark 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAITH  57 

naked,  filthy  with  dirt ;  starved  to  skin  and  bones ; 
and  animal-like  in  every  look  and  move. 

I  was  so  sick  that  I  was  not  able  to  eat  the 
lunch  which  had  been  provided  in  baskets.  I  lay 
on  my  back  trying  to  get  back  my  strength. 

As  the  rest  of  the  expedition  ate,,  the  Negritos 
with  hungry  eyes,  crowded  closer. 

One  hideous  old  man  was  in  the  forefront  of 
the  natives.  He  was  so  hideous  looking  that  he 
was  sickeningly  repulsive  to  me  as  I  looked  at  him 
crouched  as  he  was  like  an  animal  with  a  streak 
of  sunlight  playing  on  his  face. 

This  streak  of  sunlight,  with  ruthless  severity, 
made  the  ugly  scabs  of  dirt  stand  out  on  his  old 
wrinkled  face.  That  face  had  not  felt  the  touch 
of  water  in  years.  His  whole  body  was  covered 
with  dirt  and  sores.  Wherever  the  sunlight 
struck  on  that  black  body  it  revealed  scales  like 
those  on  a  mangy  dog.  His  body  was  also  cov- 
ered with  gray  hairs  matted  into  the  dirt. 

"That  old  codger  represents  the  nearest  thing 
to  an  animal  that  the  human  being  can  reach," 
said  McLaughlin,  one  of  the  oldest  missionaries 
on  the  island. 

"You're  right!"  I  said.  "He  looks  as  much 
like  a  Borneo  Orangutan  as  any  human  being 
I  ever  saw." 

"And  he  lives  like  one,  too;  up  in  a  tree  in  a 
nest  of  matted  limbs  and  grass,"  said  another. 


68     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

"I've  traveled  among  the  wild  tribes  of  the 
world  all  my  life  and  I  have  seen  the  lowest  hu- 
man beings  on  earth;  in  Africa,,  South  America, 
Malaysia,  Borneo,  Java  —  Australia  —  every- 
where," said  a  widely  traveled  man  in  the  crowd, 
"and  I  never  saw  a  type  as  low  in  the  scale  as 
that  old  fellow!" 

So  we  discussed  him  as  the  lunch  proceeded. 
He  did  not  know,  of  course,  that  we  had  con- 
signed him  to  the  lowest  rung  on  the  ladder  of 
humanity,  so  he  just  sat  looking  at  us  with  his 
animal-like  eyes  as  we  ate;  and  at  me  as  I  lay 
under  a  tree  trying  to  recover  my  strength  for 
the  trip  back. 

"He  is  not  a  human  being!"  added  a  philoso- 
pher in  the  crowd.  "He  is  lower  than  that  stage. 
He  doesn't  seem  to  have  a  single  spark  of  human- 
ity left  in  him !" 

Then  the  meal  over ;  the  missionaries  started  to 
hand  out  what  was  left  of  the  food  to  these  starv- 
ing Negritos.  The  old  man  whom  we  had  decided 
was  the  lowest  type  of  a  human  being  on  earth 
seemed,,  after  all,  to  be  the  leader  of  the  tribe;  no 
doubt  because  of  his  age;  perhaps  because  of 
something  else  which  we  were  later  to  discover. 

McLaughlin  handed  out  a  sandwich  to  the  old 
man. 

"Did  he  eat  it  himself?" 

"He  did  not !    He  handed  it  to  a  child  near  by." 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAITH  59 

McLaughlin  handed  out  another  sandwich 
which  was  left. 

*'Did  the  old  man,  whom  we  had  decided  was 
more  of  an  animal  than  a  human  being,  eat  that 
one?" 

"He  did  not.  He  took  it  over  behind  a  tree 
where  another  old  man  was  timidly  hiding  and 
gave  it  to  him." 

McLaughlin  handed  out  another  sandwich. 

*'Did  the  old  man  eat  that  one?" 

*'He  did  not.  He  took  it  over  and  gave  it  to  an 
old  woman  near  by." 

And  so  it  continued,  until  every  last  piece  of 
food  was  disposed  of.  That  old  man;  whom  we 
had  decided  was  an  animal ;  saw  to  it,  that  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  in  that  crowd  was  fed 
before  he  took  a  single  bite  himself. 

Then  he  suddenly  disappeared.  In  half  an 
hour  he  came  back  with  an  armful  of  great, 
broad,  palm  leaves.  He  spread  these  out  on  the 
ground  in  the  shade  of  a  tree;  did  this  old  man; 
this  hideous  looking  monster ;  and  then  motioned 
for  me  to  lie  down  on  the  bed  he  had  made  for 
me.    He  saw  that  I  was  sick. 

Then  he  disappeared  once  again,  and  when  he 
returned  he  was  carrying  a  long  Bamboo-tube  full 
of  clear,  cool  water  which  he  had  gotten  from  a 
mountain  spring.  He  brought  it  to  where  I  was 
lying  on  the  bed  he  had  made  for  me  and  with  this 


60     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

water  he  cooled  my  fevered,  burning  head;  and 
from  this  watej  he  gave  me  to  drink;  he  whom 
we  had  decided  was  the  lowest  type  of  a  human 
being  on  earth. 

And  I  am  writing  here  to  say ;  that  I  have  never 
seen  a  *'cup  of  cold  water  given  in  His  name"  that 
was  given  with  a  higher,  or  a  deeper  sense  of 
the  Divine  spark  of  God  in  humanity  than  I  saw 
that  tropical  summer  afternoon,  and  this  water 
was  given  by  the  naked  Negrito  whom  we  had 
decided  was  the  lowest  human  being  on  the  earth. 
Yet  even  in  this  animal-man;  even  in  this  naked 
savage;  there  was  a  spark  of  the  Divine  that  made 
us  forever  have  a  deeper  and  a  more  abiding  faith 
that  God  never  did  and  never  shall  make  a  man  to 
live  on  this  old  earth  that  He  did  not  have  some 
purpose  in  making  him. 

A  few  days  before  I  took  this  trip  up  into  the 
jungles  of  Luzon  to  visit  'this  Negrito  tribe  I  had 
received  a  copy  of  a  slender  volume  of  poems  by 
Edna  St.  Vincent  Millay.  In  the  cool  beauty  of 
the  tropical  evening  preceding  this  trip  I  had  read 
the  last  lines  of  its  introductory  poem  called  "In- 
terim"; and  these  lines  came  flashing  into  my 
mind,  even  as  I  lay  on  the  hot  earth  on  that  Luzon 
hillside.  I  can  still  remember  the  honey  dripping 
like  rain  from  the  Cocoanut  trees,  and  I  can  still 
hear  the  ceaseless  and  maddening  cry  of  millions 
of  Locusts  that  hot  day;  but  suddenly  came  this 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAITH  61 

beautiful   outpouring   of    faith    from   the   cool 
depths  of  a  woman's  woodland  soul: 

"Not  Truth  but  Faith,  it  is 
That  keeps  the  world  alive !    If,  all  at  once 
Faith  were  to  slacken, — that  unconscious  faith 
Which  must,  I  know,  yet  be  the  corner-stone 
Of  all  believing — birds  now  flying  fearless 
Across  would  drop  in  terror  to  the  earth; 
Fishes  would  drown ;  and  the  all-governing  reins 
Would  tangle  in  the  frantic  hands  of  God 
And  the  worlds  gallop  headlong  to  destruction!" 

That  day  bred  new  faith  into  my  soul ! 

I  have  told  this  story  of  the  naked  Negrito  a 
hundred  times  since  that  eventful  day  and  it 
kindles  new  flames  of  faith  in  human  hearts  every 
time  it  is  repeated !  Mr.  Edmund  Vance  Cooke, 
the  poet,,  heard  it  in  Cleveland  where  I  spoke  in  a 
Chautauqua  programme  and  he  said  to  me  several 
months  later  in  my  home  at  Detroit,  Michigan, 
"That  was  the  most  thrilHng  story  of  the  Divine 
spark  in  a  savage  soul  that  I  have  ever  heard! 
It  gave  me  new  faith  in  God  and  in  humanity !" 

These,  and  a  thousand  other  Flashlights  of 
Faith  come  flashing  out  of  that  Far  Eastern  back- 
ground; the  sublime  faith  of  thousands  of  college 
men  and  women  who  are  giving  their  lives  be- 
cause they  believe  that  savages  and  barbarians, 
such  as  I  have  described  in  this  Negrito ;  Do  have 
that  spark  of  the  Divine  in  their  souls ;  faith  that 


62    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

Christian  civilization,  and  Christian  education; 
and  a  Christian  God,  may  awaken  that  spark. 

And,  indeed  many  a  proof  do  they  have  of  this 
miracle!  Only  the  other  day  from  an  American 
School,  a  girl  from  darkest  Africa  graduated  as  a 
Phi  Beta  Kappa  honor  scholar.  Bishop  William 
A.  Taylor  picked  up  this  girl  as  a  naked  child  in 
the  jungles  of  Africa  less  than  a  quarter  of  a 
century  ago ! 


CHAPTER   IV 

FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FEAR 

OUICK,  short,  sharp  signals  shot  down  the 
speaking  tube  from  the  bridge. 

The  Chief  Engineer  of  the  Santa  Cms  yelled 
across  the  boiler  room. 

The  bell  rang  for  reverse  and  the  entire  ship 
shivered. 

A  woman  on  deck  screamed,  and  there  was  a 
rush  to  the  railings,  for  the  old  boat  had  been 
slowly  making  its  way  up  the  winding,  treacher- 
ous Saigon  River  out  of  the  China  Sea  into 
French  Indo-China. 

'Those  damned  Chinks  again,  trying  to  escape 
the  Devil!" 

"What's  the  matter,  Pop?"  some  one  asked  the 
captain. 

"That  sampan  full  of  Chinks  was  trying  to 
get  away  from  the  River  Devil,  so  they  shot  across 
our  bow  to  fool  him  and  we  nearly  ran  them 
down." 

"Do  they  often  indulge  in  that  little  friendly 
game  with  the  Devil?"  I  asked  him,  smiling  at 
his  seriousness. 

63 


64    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

"Every  time  we  enter  one  of  these  rivers  they 
do  it.  I  killed  six  of  them  going  up  the  river  at 
Shanghai  a  year  ago.  It  gives  me  the  creeps 
every  time  I  see  them  shoot  across  our  bow.  A 
ship  like  this  will  cut  'em  in  two  like  a  knife!" 

We  looked  over  the  green  railing  of  the  Santa 
Cruz.  The  big  ship  had  almost  come  to  a  stop 
for  the  engines  were  still  in  reverse  and  the  shal- 
low river  mud  was  churned  up  until  the  other- 
wise clear  water  looked  like  a  muddy  pond.  The 
little  sampan,  full  of  grinning,  naked  Chinese 
coolies  was  fifty  feet  away  from  us,  and  our 
American  sailors  were  swearing  at  them  in 
every  language  they  knew  and  shaking  big, 
brawny,  brown  fists  in  their  grinning  direction. 

It  was  considered  a  joke  by  the  passengers  but 
it  was  a  very  real  thing  to  these  poor  ignorant 
Chinese.  One  sees  this  happen  everywhere  in  the 
Orient.  For  the  Chinaman  starts  out  every 
morning  in  his  sampan  with  the  worst  kind  of  a 
River  Devil  after  him.  He  must  rid  himself  of 
that  Devil.  So,  when  a  big  ship  comes  into  sight, 
he  waits  until  its  bow  is  very  close  and  then  darts 
in  front  of  its  pathway.  The  idea  is,  that  when  a 
sampan  full  of  Chinamen  shoots  in  front  of  a  big 
ship  the  Devil  is  supposed  to  follow  the  ship  all 
that  day,  and  let  the  Chinese  junk  or  sampan 
alone. 

It  is  the  pest  of  an  American  seaman's  life,  for 


CONFUCIUS     TOMB   AT   CHUFU,    CHINA. 


RUIN    OF   THE   MING  TOMBS. 

The  turtle,  the  symbol  of  long  life,  is  almost  as  common 
in  China  as  the  dragon. 


ORINDIirO  BICE  IN  CHIITA. 


A    CAMEL  TBAIX    FBOM   THE    PLAINS    OF    MONGOLIA    ENl^ 
PEKING    ON    A    winter's    DAT. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FEAR  65 

even  a  seaman  hates  to  see  a  human  being 
drowned. 

To  an  American  mind  this  seems  ridiculous.  It 
even  seems  humorous.  I  shall  never  forget  how 
the  passengers  laughed  when  the  captain  told 
them  why  he  had  had  to  reverse  his  engines  to 
keep  from  crushing  the  frail  Chinese  sampan. 
But  suddenly  the  thought  came  to  one  of  the  pas- 
sengers; that  to  the  poor  Chinaman  the  fear 
which  made  him  do  that  foolish  thing  and  the 
fear  which  made  him  take  that  awful  risk  was 
very  real. 

"Under  God,  the  poor  Devils  must  have  an 
awful  life  if  they  have  such  a  fear  as  that  in 
their  souls  day  and  night!"  said  an  Englishman. 

"They  never  start  out  for  a  day's  work  that 
they  are  not  haunted  every  minute  of  that  day 
by  a  thousand  devils,  ill-omens,  and  bad  spirits 
which  are  constantly  hovering  about  to  leap  on 
them  and  kill  them!"  said  a  missionary.  "The 
whole  Orient  is  full  of  the  thought  of  fear!" 

This  missionary  was  right.  Paul  Hutchinson, 
Editor  of  the  Chinese  Christian  Advocate  and 
one  of  the  real  literary  men  of  the  Americans 
who  are  permanent  residents  of  Shanghai,  told  me 
of  a  Chinese  boy  who  was  graduating  from  a 
Christian  College  in  Nanking.  The  boy  had  been 
for  four  years  under  the  influence  of  Americans. 
He  could  speak  good  English.     He  was  about 


66    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

ready  to  go  to  America  to  school  when  he  had 
completed  his  work  at  Nanking. 

He,  with  a  younger  brother,  was  at  home  for 
the  Christmas  vacation.  On  the  way  back  to 
college  the  younger  brother  fell  overboard  into 
the  river.  The  older  brother  was  not  a  coward. 
Everybody  will  testify  to  that.  In  fact  he  was 
unusually  courageous.  But  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  his  puny  brother  was  able  to  swim  to  the  side 
of  the  small  boat,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he 
begged  his  older  and  stronger  brother  to  pull  him 
back  into  the  boat,  that  older  brother  refused  to 
do  so. 

"Why?" 

Mr.  Hutchinson  says  that  the  English  teacher 
heard  the  tale  in  terror,  but  that  the  brother  took 
it  as  a  matter  of  course,  explaining  that  the  River 
Devil  would  most  certainly  have  caught  and 
dragged  into  the  water,  any  person  who  should 
have  dared  to  attempt  a  rescue  of  his  brother. 

It  is  an  established  thing  in  China;  that  if  a 
native  falls  into  the  river,  he  never  gets  out  unless 
he  pulls  himself  out.  Nobody  will  help  him,  for 
if  they  do,,  that  will  incur  the  wrath  of  the  River 
God  and  the  rescuer  also  will  be  dragged  down 
to  his  death. 

It  is  assumed  that  if  a  person  falls  into  the 
river  that  is  the  River  God  pulling  him  in. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FEAR  67 

The  constant  fear  of  this  River  God  is  so  deep- 
ly intrenched  in  these  poor  souls  that  they  take 
no  pleasure  on  the  water  and  they  carry  their 
sense  of  fear  to  such  an  extent  that  they  will  not 
even  attempt  a  rescue  of  their  own  babies  or  loved 
ones  if  these  happen  to  fall  into  the  water. 

Mr.  Hutchinson  calls  attention  to  Dr.  E.  D. 
Soper's  book  "The  Faiths  of  Mankind"  in  which 
there  is  an  entire  chapter  called  "Where  Fear 
Holds  Sway." 

"Where  is  it  that  fear  holds  sway?"  the  reader 
asks. 

The  answer  is,  "In  the  Orient" ! 

Yes,  the  whole  Orient  is  one  great  gallery  of 
dim,  uncertain,  weird,  mysterious  Flash-lights  of 
Fear. 

Paul  Hutchinson  says : 

"It  is  impossible  for  the  Westerner  to  conceive  such 
an  atmosphere  until  he  has  lived  in  it.  In  fact  he  may 
live  in  it  for  years  and  never  realize  the  hold  which  it  has 
upon  his  native  neighbors.  But  it  is  no  exaggeration  to 
say  that,  to  the  average  Chinese,  the  air  is  peopled  with 
countless  spirits,  most  of  them  malignant,  all  attempting 
to  do  him  harm.  Even  a  catalogue  of  the  devils,  such  as 
have  been  named  by  the  scholarly  Jesuit,  Father  Dore, 
is  too  long  for  the  limits  of  this  article.  But  there  they 
are,  millions  of  them.  They  hover  around  every  motion 
of  every  waking  hour,  and  they  enter  the  sanctity  of  sleep. 
An  intricate  system  of  circumnavigating  them,  that  makes 
the  streets  twist  in  a  fashion  to  daze  Boston's  legendary 
cow  and  puts  walls  in  front  of  doors  to  belie  the  hos- 
pitality within,  runs  through  the  social  order." 


68    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

This  fear  is  even  expressed  in  Chinese  archi- 
tecture. 

**Why  is  that  strange  wall  built  in  front  of 
every  household  door  and  even  before  the  Tem- 
ples ?"  I  asked  a  friend  in  China. 

"It  is  put  there  to  fool  the  devils.  They  will  see 
that  wall  and  think  that  there  is  no  door  and  then 
will  go  away  and  not  bother  that  house  any 
more,"  I  was  told. 

The  very  architecture  of  the  Chinese  home  is 
to  keep  the  devils  out.  The  strange  curves  with 
the  graceful  upward  sweep  that  makes  the  roofs 
so  beautiful  to  American  eyes  is  for  the  purpose 
of  throwing  devils  of  the  air  off  the  track.  They 
will  come  down  from  the  skies  and  start  down  the 
curve  of  the  roofs  but  will  be  turned  back  into 
the  skies  again  by  the  upward  slant  of  the  twisted 
roofs. 

It  was  this  same  terrible  sense  of  fear  which 
developed  the  old  surgical  system  that  the  Ko- 
reans and  Chinese  used  before  the  arrival  of  the 
missionaries. 

"Do  you  see  these  needles?"  an  American 
surgeon  in  Korea  asked  me  one  day,  as  he  pointed 
to  about  a  hundred  of  the  most  horrible  looking 
copper  and  brass  needles  lying  on  a  stand. 

"Yes,"  I  admitted,  mystified. 

"I  have  taken  every  one  of  them  out  of  the 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FEAR  69 

bodies  of  human  beings  on  whom  I  have  operated 
here  in  the  hospital." 

''Where  did  you  find  them?" 

"In  between  the  bowels,  in  the  muscles,  in  the 
organs  of  the  body,  and  one  in  the  heart  of  a  man 
who  came  to  me  because  he  couldn't  breathe  very 
well." 

"No  wonder  the  fellow  couldn't  breathe.  I 
don't  think  I  could  myself  if  I  had  a  needle  in  my 
blood-pump !"  I  said  with  a  smile. 

"These  fancy  needles  that  the  old  Korean  doc- 
tors thought  a  good  deal  of  they  put  a  handle  on," 
he  continued. 

"What  was  that  for?" 

"So  they  wouldn't  lose  their  needles  in  a  body. 
The  other,  or  common  needles,  they  just  stuck 
into  the  body  wherever  the  wound  or  sore  place 
was  and  left  them  there." 

"And  what,  may  I  ask,  w^as  the  idea  of  this 
playful  Korean  surgery!  Was  it  something  like 
our  'button,  button,  whose  got  the  button  ?' " 

"No,  the  idea  was  that  there  were  devils  in  the 
wound.  If  it  was  a  swelling  there  was  a  devil  in 
that  swelling.  If  it  was  typhoid  fever,  and  there 
was  pain  in  the  bowels,  there  was  a  devil  in  the 
inward  parts  affected,  and  so,  after  carefully 
sterilizing  the  needle  by  running  it  through  his 
long,  black,  greasy  hair,  the  native  doctor  would 


70    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

run  it  into  the  affected  part  of  the  body  to  kill 
the  devil  or  let  it  escape  from  the  body." 

*'The  old  idea  of  a  fear  religion,  a  fear  social 
life,  a  fear  family  life  and  a  fear  surgery  pre- 
vails in  Korea  as  it  does  in  China?"  I  said  by 
way  of  a  question. 

"It  prevails  everywhere  in  the  Orient.  To  me 
it  is  the  most  awful  thing  about  working  out  here. 
The  awful  sense  of  constant  fear  that  is  on  the 
people  always  and  everywhere." 

Pounded-up  claws  of  a  tiger ;  the  red  horn  of  a 
deer;  pulverized  fish  bones;  roots  of  trees,  pigs* 
eyes;  and  a  thousand  poisons  and  fear-remedies 
make  up  the  medical  history  of  the  Oriental  doc- 
tor. 

"Why  do  they  kill  girl  babies?" 

"Fear!" 

"Fear  of  what?" 

"Fear  of  devils !  The  devils  will  be  displeased  if 
a  girl  baby  is  born.    Therefore  kill  the  baby. 

"Throw  the  babies  out  on  the  ground  in  the 
graveyards.    Let  the  dogs  eat  the  babies." 

I  heard  the  dogs  howling  in  a  cemetery  one 
night  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  as  I  was 
coming  through  the  thousands  of  little  conical 
mounds,  with  here  and  there  an  unburied  coffin. 

"The  dogs  are  having  a  baby  feast  to-night," 
said  an  old  missionary. 

"Why?" 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FEAR  71 

"To  appease  the  devils." 

"My  God  man;  you  don't  mean  that  they  let 
the  dogs  eat  their  babies  because  they  are  afraid 
of  the  devil?"  I  cried. 

"I  mean  just  that,"  replied  the  missionary. 

"Fear!  Fear!  Fear!  Everywhere.  Fear  by 
night  and  fear  by  day.  They  never  escape  it.  It 
is  fear  that  makes  them  worship  their  ancestors. 
It  is  fear  that  makes  them  worship  idols.  It  is 
fear  that  makes  them  kill  their  girl  babies.  It  is 
fear  that  makes  them  build  their  little  narrow 
winding  streets,  which  after  a  while  must  become 
so  filthy;  fear  that  if  they  do  not,  the  devils  will 
find  them;  and  if  they  do  build  their  streets  nar- 
row and  winding  the  devils  will  get  lost  searching 
for  them.  Oh,  God,  fear,  fear,  everywhere !  The 
Orient  is  full  of  a  terrible  and  a  constant  fear !" 

I  looked  at  my  friend  astonished.  He  seldom 
went  into  such  emotional  outbursts.  He  was 
judicial,  calm,  poised;  some  said,  cold.  But  this 
constant  sense  of  fear  that  was  upon  the  people 
had  finally  broken  down  his  reserve  of  poise. 

"The  chimneys  are  beautiful.  See  that  beauti- 
ful upward  dip  in  the, architecture.  They  are  like 
the  roofs,"  I  said. 

"But  that  beautiful,  symmetrical  development 
did  not  come  out  of  a  sense  of  beauty.  It  came 
to  fool  the  devils  just  as  we  have  said  of  the  roofs. 
The  devils  will  glide  off  into  space  and  will  never 


72     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

be  able  to  get  down  the  chimneys."    It  is  so  in 
other  Oriental  countries. 


The  same  is  true  in  the  Philippine  Islands. 
The  whole  fabric  of  human  life  is  permeated  with 
the  black  thread  of  fear. 

It  is  true  of  China  and  Korea;  it  is  true  of 
Borneo  to  a  marked  degree ;  and  it  is  true  of  that 
great  mass  of  conglomerate  humanity  that  we 
think  of  as  India. 

These  and  other  flash-lights  of  fear  remain, 
and  shall  remain  forever  in  my  mind.  But  of  a 
fifty  thousand  mile  trip  among  hundreds  of  mil- 
lions of  human  beings ;  pictures  of  fear  stand  out, 
blurred  here  and  there;  but  clear  enough  in  out- 
line so  that  I  can  still  see  the  human  faces  against 
a  background  of  midnight  darkness. 

Three  pictures  are  clearer  than  the  others. 
Perhaps  it  was  because  the  flash  that  focused 
them  on  the  plate  of  my  mind  was  stronger.  Per- 
haps it  was,  that  the  plate  of  my  soul  was  more 
sensitive  the  days  these  impressions  were  focused. 
But  they  stand  out;  three  flash-lights  of  fear 
above  all: 

One  was  told  me  by  Zela  Wiltsie  Worley,  a 
college  girl,  now  a  missionary's  wife,  who  has 
known  what  it  means  to  lie  on  the  floor  of  her 
home  an  entire  morning  with  machine  gun  bullets 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FEAR  73 

crashing  through  her  home,  between  the  fire  of 
two  revolutionary  armies. 

"I  was  talking  with  my  Amah — she  is  the  girl 
who  cares  for  our  children,"  said  Mrs.  Worley. 

I  nodded  that  I  understood  that. 

"We  were  bathing  the  baby — our  first  wee 
kiddie — and  the  Amah  seemed  to  have  an  unusual 
inclination  to  talk.  I  had  been  joking  with  her 
and  asked  her  if  she  did  not  want  to  buy  Clara 
Gene.  In  fun  we  started  the  characteristic 
Chinese  haggling  over  price,  she  trying  to  *jew' 
me  up  and  I  trying  to  'jew'  her  down. 

"  *0h !'  she  said,  'girl  babies  are  very  expensive 
the  last  two  or  three  years.  Now  you  have  to  pay 
over  ten  dollars  to  get  a  nice  fat  one !  Before  that, 
if  you  did  not  drown  them,  you  had  an  awfully 
hard  time  to  get  rid  of  them.  There  was  a  man 
in  our  town  to  whom  we  took  the  babies — the  girl 
babies  I  mean.  He  would  go  up  and  down  the 
streets  with  them  and  sell  them  to  any  one  who 
would  give  him  a  chicken  and  a  bowl  of  rice  in 
return.* 

"  'But  do  they  drown  the  girl  babies  now?'  I 
asked  the  Amah. 

"  'Oh,  yes,  of  course,  if  you  already  have  one 
or  two  bo^cs.  You  know,  in  my  village  I  am  the 
only  Christian.  My  own  family  and  the  rest  of 
the  village  worship  idols.  They  are  afraid  of 
their  gods.    They  do  not  know  any  better.    Why 


74    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

my  sister  almost  drowned  my  second  little  boy 
by  mistake.  He  had  just  arrived  and  she  thought 
that  he  was  a  girl,  and  had  already  stuck  his  head 
down  in  a  pail  of  water  when  I  rescued  him.' 

"'But  who  usually  kills  the  girl  babies?'  I 
asked.    'Surely  not  the  mother?' 

"  *Yes,,  she  does.  She  is  so  afraid  when  she 
finds  it  is  only  a  girl,  afraid  that  the  gods  will  be 
angry  because  she  has  brought  another  girl  into 
the  world,  that  she  kills  it !' 

"  'Do  they  bury  it  then  ?' 

'"Sometimes  they  wrap  it  up,  and  throw  it 
under  a  pile  of  rubbish.  You  know,  we  do  not 
have  coffins  made  for  any  of  our  babies  who  die 
before  they  have  had  their  first  teeth !  I  have 
seen  so  many  babies  drowned,  Mrs.  Worley.  I 
never  did  like  it.    They  cry  so !' 

"Then  I  inquired  of  our  Chinese  teacher's  wife 
if  she  knew  of  girl  baby  killing  still  going  on  in 
China. 

"  'Just  last  week/  this  teacher's  wife  said  in 
answer  to  my  inquiry,  'the  woman  next  door  went 
back  to  her  village  two  miles  from  here  and  she 
saw  her  own  sister  drown  a  baby  while  she  was 
there/ 

"I  asked  an  English  missionary  if  she  knew 
that  this  fearful  custom  was  still  prevalent  over 
most  of  China  with  its  more  than  four  hundred 
million  souls. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FEAR  75 

"She  told  me  that  it  was  the  custom  in  Ning- 
daik  for  the  women  just  to  throw  the  girl  babies 
under  their  beds,  and  they  would  *be  gone  in  a 
day  or  two.' 

"And  it  is  all  because  of  their  awful  fear  that 
the  gods  will  be  displeased  if  they  give  birth  to  a 
girl  baby!" 

The  second  outstanding  flash-light  of  fear 
comes  from  Java. 

In  the  chapter  on  Physical  Flash-lights  I  have 
described  the  old  volcano  of  Bromo.  It  is  a  ter- 
rible thing  to  look  into.  Great  fissures  in  the 
earth,  belch  thunder,  sulphur,  fire,  and  lava. 
Great  rocks  as  large  as  wagons  shoot  into  the 
air  to  the  rim  of  the  two  hundred- foot  crater,  and 
then  drop  back  with  a  crash. 

For  centuries,  and  even  in  these  days,  clandes- 
tinely ;  I  am  told  by  men  whom  I  trust ;  the  most 
beautiful  maiden  of  a  certain  tribe  among  the 
Javanese;  and  some  of  the  most  beautiful  women 
I  saw  in  the  Orient  were  those  soft-skinned,  soft- 
voiced,,  easy-moving,  graceful-limbed,  swaying- 
bodied;  brown  skinned  women  of  Java;  she,  the 
fairest  of  the  tribe  is  taken;  and  with  her  the 
strongest  limbed  youth ;  he  of  the  fibered  muscles ; 
he  of  the  iron  biceps ;  he  of  the  clean  skin ;  and  the 
two  of  them  are  tossed  into  the  belching  fiery 
crater  of  old  Bromo. 

"Why?"  I  asked. 


76    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

"They  think  that  in  that  way,  they  may  pro- 
pitiate the  gods  of  the  volcano.  Their  hearts  are 
constantly  filled  with  fear  lest  the  gods  of  the 
volcano  become  angry  and  destroy  them,"  said  the 
missionary. 

Then  he  told  me  of  a  trip  that  they  made  a  year 
before  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  most  inaccessible 
volcanoes  which  was  then  in  constant  eruption. 

"We  had  a  hard  time  getting  native  guides. 
Finally  we  succeeded.  We  had  to  travel  fifty 
miles  before  we  reached  the  mountain.  Then  we 
climbed  five  miles  up  its  steep  side,  cutting  our 
own  trail  as  we  made  our  way  through  the  tropi- 
cal jungle.  At  last  we  reached  the  timber.  But 
before  we  entered  the  forest  one  of  the  guides 
came  to  me  and,  with  the  most  pitiable  and  trem- 
bling fear  in  his  voice  and  face,  begged  us  white 
people  not  to  say  anything  disrespectful  of  the 
mountain;  not  to  joke  and  laugh,  and  not  to 
sing;  for  that  would  make  the  mountain  angry, 
and  we  would  all  be  killed. 

"I  saw  that  he  was  in  deadly  earnest,  and, 
while  I  wanted  to  laugh  I  looked  as  solemn  as  I 
could,  for  there  was  such  terror  in  his  face,  I 
knew  that  if  I  laughed  he  would  turn  and  run 
back  to  civilization. 

"An  hour  later  we  reached  the  timber  line. 
Before  we  entered  it  the  first  boy  fell  flat  on  his 
face  and  prayed  to  the  god  of  the  mountain  ask- 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FEAR  77 

ing  that  god  not  to  hurt  them.  Then  the  next  boy 
did  likewise;  then  the  third  and  the  fourth  and 
the  fifth! 

"Their  faces  were  almost  white  with  fear  when 
we  missionaries  did  not  pray.  It  filled  them  with 
terror !" 

And  the  last  Flash-light  of  Fear  is  that  of  the 
baby  in  Medan.  The  Priest  lived  across  the  way 
in  a  temple. 

The  baby  was  sick  with  whooping-cough.  It 
was  the  usual,  simple  case  of  baby  sickness  that 
American  babies  all  have,  and  which  is  not  taken 
seriously  here  by  either  doctor  or  mother. 

The  mother  took  the  baby  to  the  priest. 

The  priest  took  a  red  hot  iron;  laid  the  baby 
on  the  church  altar  and  ran  the  iron  across  its 
neck,  and  then  across  its  breast  and  then  across 
its  little  stomach.  Then  he  laid  it  on  the  front 
steps  of  the  temple. 

The  baby  died  after  a  few  hours  spent  in  ter- 
rible pain. 

Hate  the  Priest  ? 

No! 

Despise  the  mother  ? 

No! 

Pity  them! 

The  priest  was  honest  and  the  mother  was  hon- 
est.   They  were  doing  the  best  thing  for  the  baby 


78    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

that  either  of  them  knew.  They  knew  that  the 
baby  had  a  devil  in  its  little  body  and  they  were 
merely  trying  to  drive  that  devil  out  of  its  body. 

Fear!  Fear!  Fear!  Fear  of  devils  in  the 
home,  lurking  in  the  shadows  of  night  and  in  the 
light  of  day;  lurking  in  the  bodies  of  babies; 
devils  everywhere — always. 

These  are  the  Flash-lights  of  Fear! 

And  like  unto  them  are  the  pictures  of  Fright- 
fulness  which  I  have  set  down  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  V 

FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIGHTFULNESS 

THE  Jap  is  the  slant-eyed  Hun  of  the  Orient. 
He  has  a  slant-eyed  ethics,  a  slant-eyed 
morality,  a  slant-eyed  honesty,  a  slant-eyed  social 
consciousness ;  a  slant-eyed  ambition,  a  slant-eyed 
military  system;  and  a  slant-eyed  mind!"  said 
Peter  Clarke  Macfarlane,  the  well-known  author 
and  lecturer,  one  day  when  I  was  interviewing 
him  on  the  Japanese  question. 

"That's  pretty  strong,  Mr.  Macfarlane,  in  the 
light  of  your  usual  conservatism,"  I  commented. 

"I  say  it  carefully  and  after  much  thought.  It 
is  said  to  stay  said  so  far,  as  I  am  concerned," 
he  added  with  finality. 

This  was  also  my  own  opinion,  after  spending 
three  months  in  Japan  and  Korea,  another  month 
in  China;  and  another  month  or  two  in  Manila; 
catching  the  angle  of  Japanese  leadership  from 
every  slant. 

And  after  due  consideration,  and  after  a  year 
to  think  it  over  carefully,  I  am  here  to  say,  that 
I  never  saw,  or  heard  of  anything  worse  happen- 
ing in  Belgium  under  German  rule  than  that 

79 


80     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

which  I  saw  and  heard  of  happening  under 
Japanese  rule  in  Korea,  Siberia  and  Formosa, 
while  I  was  in  the  Orient. 

Suffice  it  is  to  say,  at  this  point,  that  the 
Japanese  is  hated  by  the  whole  Orient,  I  do  not 
believe  that  the  German  Hun  in  his  worst  day 
was  ever  hated  more  unanimously  for  his  inhu- 
man practices  than  is  the  Jap  Hun  hated  by  the 
whole  Orient  to-day. 

"'Is  it  getting  better  or  worse?"  I  am  asked 
constantly. 

"Worse!"  I  reply,  and  this  reply  is  backed  up 
by  interviews  I  have  had  with  returned  Korean 
missionaries. 

I  found  the  Japanese  scorned  and  hated  from 
one  end  of  the  Orient  to  the  other.  As  far  south 
as  Java,  as  far  east  as  the  Suez;  as  far  north  as 
the  uttermost  reaches  of  Manchuria  and  Siberia; 
as  far  this  direction  as  Hawaii. 

For  instance,  after  I  had  been  away  from 
Korea  for  six  months  and  had  come  back  to 
America  I  met  a  most  conservative  missionary  in 
the  Romona  Hotel  in  San  Francisco.  The  last 
time  previous  to  that  meeting  that  I  had  seen  him 
was  in  Korea  itself. 

I  said  to  him  "Are  things  better  or  worse  in 
Korea?" 

His  reply  was,  "Worse  than  they  have  ever 
been;  generally  speaking!"     I  have  no  intention 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIGHTFULNESS     81 

and  no  desire  to  further  augment  ill  feeling  be- 
tween America  and  Japan.  In  fact  I  do  not  fear 
anything  like  war  in  that  direction;  but  I  do  have 
an  intense  feeling-  of  responsibility  about  telling 
my  readers  the  plain  and  simple  truth  that  the 
whole  Far  Eastern  world  hates  Japan. 

If  that  thought  itself  can  get  into  the  mind  of 
America,  this  country  will  understand,  at  least, 
that  there  is  some  fault  that  lies  back  in  the 
Japanese  military  policy  and  character  itself.  It 
hardly  seems  possible,  with  ten  races  and  five 
different  countries  hating  Japan ;  that  Japan  her- 
self is  not  mostly  to  blame.  When  a  matter  of 
hatred  is  so  unanimous  among  all  races  in  that 
part  of  the  world,  it  is  likely  that  the  fault  lies 
with  the  race  and  nation  which  has  the  hatred  of 
so  many  types  of  people  focused  on  its  actions. 

While  I  was  in  Java  some  high  dignitaries  in 
the  Japanese  Navy  arrived  in  Batavia.  The 
Chinese  Coolies  who  live  in  Batavia  absolutely 
refused  to  carry  any  Japanese  officers  or  sailors 
in  their  Rickshas.  It  was  a  striking  indictment  of 
the  Japanese  nation. 

In  Singapore  the  distrust  and  hatred  of  the 
Japanese  is  unanimous.  In  the  Philippines  it  is 
the  same.  In  Hongkong  you  see  few  Japanese. 
They  are  not  wanted  and  they  are  not  trusted. 
In  Shanghai,  and  Peking  it  is  the  same.  The 
Student  Movement,  one  of  the  most  powerful 


82     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

weapons  that  has  ever  arisen  in  any  nation  in  the 
world,  has  focused  the  Chinese  sentiment  against 
selfish  Japanese  aggression  in  China. 

The  Japanese  officials  laughed  at  the  Student 
Boycott  of  Japanese  goods  when  it  first  started. 
But  in  a  year  they  were  trembling  in  the  face  of 
that  boycott.  I  was  in  Tientsin,  and  Peking  dur- 
ing the  days  of  the  Student  Street  Demonstra- 
tions.   They  were  like  American  demonstrations. 

Keen,  alert,  intelligent  Chinese  boys  addressed 
the  crowds  admonishing  them  not  to  buy  Japanese 
goods  in  Chinese  shops.  The  pressure  became  so 
strong  that  all  Chinese  merchants  from  the  lowest 
shopkeeper  up  to  the  owner  of  the  great  chain 
stores,,  like  our  Woolworth  institutions,  put  away 
Japanese-made  goods  and  refused  to  sell  them. 

I  took  dinner  in  Shanghai  with  one  of  the 
foremost  merchant  princes  of  China  and  said, 
"Are  you  selling  any  Japanese-made  goods?" 

'T  certainly  am  not.  I  am  not  powerful  enough 
with  all  my  millions  of  money  and  all  of  my  chain 
of  stores  to  take  such  a  chance  as  that.  I  have 
put  all  of  my  Japanese  goods  in  the  cellar." 

The  Boycott  against  Japanese  goods  in  China 
became  so  powerful  that  in  Tientsin,  while  I  was 
there,  the  Japanese  Consul  complained  bitterly  to 
the  Governor  of  the  Province  and  the  Governor 
who  was  said  to  be  under  the  influence  of  Japan- 
ese money,  arrested  a  lot  of  students.    There  was 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIGHTFULNESS     83 

one  of  the  most  determined  and  terrible  riots  that 
I  have  ever  seen.  It  was  v^ar.  It  was  not  like 
any  mild  American  riot.  It  was  war  to  the  death. 
Several  students  were  killed  and  finally  the  pres- 
sure was  so  strong  that  even  this  Japanese  Agent 
was  compelled  to  release  the  imprisoned  students. 
I  shall  quote  from  an  editorial  that  I  was  asked 
to  write  for  the  Peking  Leader  during  mv  stay 
in  China: 

The  weapon  which  most  worries  the  Japanese 
I  should  say,  is  the  boycott  that  the  Students 
Movement  has  inaugurated.  The  Japanese  Gov- 
ernment never  had  anything  that  quite  worried  it 
so  much.  It  is  a  weapon  that  is  worth  a  thousand 
battleships,  or  fifty  divisions  of  soldiers.  It  is  a 
weapon  that  will,  if  continuously,  and  consistently 
and  faithfully  used,  bring  a  money-loving  nation, 
like  Japan  to  her  knees,  and  send  her  finally, 
scurrying  like  a  whipped  cur,  with  her  tail  be- 
tween her  legs  back  home  where  she  belongs. 

I  talked  with  a  ragged  Chinese  boy  through  an 
interpreter  just  to  find  what  his  reactions  to  the 
Japanese  were.  He  was  a  beggar.  He  said,  "The 
Japanese  has  a  heart  like  a  dog  and  a  liver  like  a 
wolf." 

I  quote  again  from  the  editorial  in  the  Peking 
Leader: 

All  day  I  have  been  on  the  streets  of  Peking 
listening  to  groups  of  students  discussing  the  all 


84     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

absorbing  question  of  the  Boycott.  I  have  not 
understood  the  characters  printed  on  their  ban- 
ners, but  I  have  understood  the  light  in  Young 
China's  eyes.  I  can  understand  that  language 
and  that  light,  for  it  is  the  language  and  the  light 
of  freedom,  justice,  liberty!  I  am  an  American. 
I  understand  that  light  when  I  see  it ;  and  I  know 
also;  that  it  is  a  light  that  can  never  be  snuffed 
out.  It  is  a  light  that  prison  walls  cannot  hide 
and  that  the  brute  hand  of  the  invader  cannot 
dim. 

"And  what  are  they  protesting  against?"  is  the 
question  asked. 

Primarily  against  the  Japanese  control  of 
Shantung.  Secondarily,  against  a  type  of  civili- 
zation which  Japan  represents ;  a  civilization  that 
uses  the  weapons  of  frightfulness  to  accomplish 
its  ends;  a  civilization  that  steals  a  nation  like 
Korea,  compelling  the  abdication  of  a  weak  Em- 
peror at  the  point  of  the  bayonet;  and  then  using 
the  avowed  method  of  extermination  to  deplete  a 
subjected  nation.  The  whole  Orient  knows  Japan 
and  knows  the  methods  that  Japan  has  used  and 
is  using  in  conquered  territory.  It  is  a  continuous 
and  continual  policy  of  extermination,  frightful- 
ness, and  assimilation.  This  is  the  underlying 
cause  of  the  hatred  of  the  whole  Orient  and  the 
Far  and  Near  East  against  Japan;  and  this  is 
the  fundamental  reason  for  the  Students'  Boy- 
cott of  Japanese  goods  in  China. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIGHTFULNESS      85 

One  might  devote  an  entire  book  to  narrations 
of  frightful  cruelties  perpetrated  by  Japanese  on 
Koreans,  Siberians  and  Formosans;  but  that 
would  not  be  so  strong  as  the  setting  forth  of  the 
underlying  ethical  reasons  for  this  universal 
hatred  in  which  Japan  is  held. 

However  it  might  be  quite  honest  and  fair  for 
this  writer  to  set  down  here  several  acts  of  fright- 
fulness  that  came  under  his  own  personal  obser- 
vation merely  as  casual  illustrations  of  that  which 
is  going  on  all  the  time. 

One  day  I  was  walking  with  a  missionary's  wife 
through  the  streets  of  Seoul.  There  was  an  exca- 
vation being  made  and  a  little  railroad  track  was 
being  run  along  this  excavation.  A  Korean  boy 
had  been  set  to  guard  this  track  to  keep  folks 
from  getting  hurt  when  the  dump  car  came  down 
its  steep  grade.  He  had  been  ordered  by  his 
Japanese  employers  to  stop  all  passage  when  the 
signal  was  given. 

We  were  walking  along  whan  this  Korean 
stopped  an  ordinary  Japanese  civilian.  He  was 
of  the  low-browed  type;  mentally  deficient  I 
should  say;  but  quite  the  average  type  that  is 
used  by  Japan  to  settle  these  conquered  coun- 
tries. 

The  Korean  held  up  his  hands  in  warning. 

The  Japanese  stooped  over,  picked  up  a  stone 
as  large  as  a  cabbage  head  and,,  with  only  a  space 


86     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

of  two  feet  between  himself  and  the  Korean, 
threw  it  with  all  his  force  against  the  cheek  of 
the  Korean  and  smashed  his  jaw  in,  tearing  his 
ear  off,  breaking  his  jaw  bone,  and  lacerating  his 
face  fearfully.  It  was  one  of  the  most  inhuman 
things  that  I  have  ever  seen  done. 

The  missionary  woman  said  to  the  Korean 
when  the  Jap  ran ;  "Why  do  you  not  report  this 
to  the  Japanese  police?" 

"It  would  do  no  good.  They  would  give  no 
justice  to  me,  and  I  would  be  hounded  to  my  death 
for  reporting  it." 

One  evening  with  a  friend  I  had  been  speaking 
in  Pyeng  Yang.  It  was  midnight  one  Sunday 
and  we  were  waiting  for  a  train  down  to  Seoul. 
As  we  stood  on  the  platform  waiting;  a  north- 
bound train  came  in.  It  stopped.  As  it  stopped 
several  Japanese  train  boys  got  off  of  the  train. 
An  old  white-haired  Korean  gentleman,  about 
seventy-five  years  of  age,  stood  on  the  platform 
waiting  for  the  train.  He  was  intelligent  looking; 
poised;  and  well-dressed  in  the  usual  immacu- 
lately white  robes. 

A  fifteen-year  old  Japanese  train  boy,  seeing 
him  standing  there,  deliberately  ran  out  of  his 
way,  lowered  his  shoulders  like  a  football  charger 
and  ran  squarely  into  the  old  man,  knocking  him 
down  to  the  platform  and  ran  on  with  a  laugh 
and  some  muttered  Japanese  words. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIGHTFULNESS     87 

The  dignified  Korean  gentleman  got  up, 
brushed  the  dirt  from  his  clothes;  did  not  even 
deign  to  glance  at  the  offending  boy ;  and  walked 
on  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

This  scene  illustrates  two  things:  First,  the 
superiority  of  the  Korean  mind  and  character  to 
that  of  the  Japanese.  This  is  one  of  the  causes  of 
the  extreme  frightfulness  pursued  by  the  Jap- 
anese. They  instinctively  feel  the  superiority  of 
their  captives.  It  is  not  the  first  time  in  history 
that  a  lesser  nation  has  conquered  a  superior 
people. 

This  superiority  in  soul-stuff  that  the  Korean 
has  over  that  of  the  Japanese  is  recognized  imme- 
diately by  all  Europeans  and  Americans  who  be- 
come, even  in  the  least  bit,  familiar  with  the  two 
peoples.  The  sympathy  of  Christian  civilizations 
is  with  the  Koreans  immediately. 

The  other  thing  that  this  simple  scene  illus- 
trates, is  the  spirit  of  ruthless  cruelty  and  fright- 
fulness that  is  bred  in  the  very  soul  of  the  youth 
of  Japan  toward  the  Koreans.  Even  the  train- 
boys  can  do  a  thing  like  that  without  fear  of 
punishment. 

The  first  day  that  we  were  in  Seoul,  the 
capital  city  of  Korea,,  Pat  McConnell  and  myself 
were  walking  down  the  main  street  of  this  inter- 
esting city  toward  the  depot.  Parallel  with  us 
marched  a  squad  of  Japanese  soldiers.    In  front 


88     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

of  them,  going  the  same  direction,  was  a  poor 
Korean  workman  pushing  a  small  cart  that  looked 
like  our  American  wheelbarrow. 

The  Japanese  soldiers  were  in  formation  and 
marching  in  the  middle  of  a  wide  street.  But  de- 
liberately; evidently  with  orders  from  their  officer 
in  charge;  they  edged  over  to  that  side  of  the 
street  where  the  Korean  was  walking  and  pushed 
him  into  the  curb  stone,  kicking  his  barrow  as 
they  passed,  although  this  meant  a  useless  swerv- 
ing of,  at  least,  fifteen  feet  out  of  their  course  to 
do  so.    It  was  a  case  of  deliberate  brutality. 

"Korea  is  a  land  of  trails  and  terraces,"  said  a 
prominent  missionary  in  that  fair  spot  to  me  one 
day  as  we  were  riding  from  Fusan  to  Seoul. 

''And  terror,"  added  another  traveler  from 
America.  "It  is  a  land  of  trails,  terraces,  and 
terror!" 

One  day  a  friend  of  mine  was  begging  Baron 
Saito,  the  present  Governor-General  of  Korea,  to 
stop  the  cruelties  of  the  Japanese  gendarmes  in 
villages  in  northern  Korea.  The  Baron  asked  for 
the  names  of  those  who  had  given  the  missionary 
his  information  about  the  cruelties  and  I;ie  refused 
to  give  them. 

"Why  should  you  not  give  them?"  asked  Baron 
Saito. 

"Because  they  would  be  killed  for  complain- 
ing," said  the  missionary. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIGHTFULNESS      89 

Then  he  told  Governor-General  Saito  how  he 
had  once  complained  to  the  police  department 
when  a  father  and  son  were  cruelly  beaten  in 
prison. 

''Give  me  their  names,"  said  the  gendarme. 

"I  will  if  you  will  give  me  a  promise  that  they 
will  be  protected." 

"No !  I  cannot  do  that !  The  gendarmes  are 
very  revengeful!" 

I  know  personally  of  a  Korean  preacher  who 
has  done  no  greater  crime  than  to  attend  a  meet- 
ing at  a  dinner  given  for  released  Korean  pris- 
oners. He  was  arrested  and  kept  in  jail  for  three 
days,  just  for  attending  that  dinner. 

Another  preacher  with  whom  I  talked  was 
suspected  of  collecting  money  eight  months  after 
the  March  Independence  Movement.  When  he 
heard  that  the  Japanese  police  were  coming  for 
him  he  fled.  This  angered  the  police.  They  ap- 
peared the  next  morning  at  three  o'clock  at  his 
home.  There  were  only  the  mother  and  a  twelve- 
year-old  daughter  left.  First  the  gendarmes 
burst  in  the  frail  doors  with  the  butts  of  their 
rifles,  and  then  from  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
until  daylight,  they  beat  and  tortured  those  two 
helpless  Christian  Korean  women;  kicking  them 
all  over  the  house  until  they  were  imconscious. 
These  two  Korean  women  were  in  bed  for  two 
weeks  because  of  that  night's  experience  and 


90    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

were  not  able  to  walk  for  a  much  longer  period 
than  that. 

And  these  women  were  educated,  cultured 
women.  They  had  committed  no  crime.  It  was 
simply  because  they  did  not  know  where  the 
father  was. 

Later  the  father  and  son  were  arrested.  They 
were  beaten  cruelly  in  the  process  of  arrest  al- 
though they  offered  no  resistance.  The  son  later 
said  to  me,,  *T  could  stand  it  to  be  beaten  myself 
and  even  to  see  my  father  beaten  but  the  unbear- 
ably cruel  thing  was  to  know  that  they  had  beaten 
my  innocent  mother  and  sister  when  no  man  was 
there  to  protect  them." 

I  cite  this  instance  because  it  happened  eight 
months  after  the  Independence  Movement,  and 
three  months  after  the  so-called  reform  Govern- 
ment of  Baron  Saito  had  been  in  effect  and  after 
the  Japanese  Press  had  said  to  the  world  that  all 
cruelties  had  ceased. 

A  case  of  frightfulness  that  was  called  to  my 
attention;  which  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  very 
essence  of  cruelty  was  that  of  the  moral  terroriz- 
ing of  an  educated  Korean  Pastor,  whom  the 
police  merely  suspected  of  having  had  something 
to  do  with  the  Independence  Movement.  They 
had  no  direct  evidence  but  submitted  him  to 
months  of  moral  terrorizing  which  was  the  worst 
I  have  ever  heard  of. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIGHTFULNESS     91 

For  months  at  a  stretch  they  would  suddenly 
appear  outside  of  his  home  and  thrust  their  bayo- 
nets through  his  doors.  Then  they  would  go 
away  without  saying  a  word.  He  had  absolutely 
no  redress.  If  he  had  complained,  he  would  have 
been  thrown  into  prison. 

One  of  the  most  reliable  missionaries  that  I  met 
in  Korea  told  me  of  how  one  morning  the  police- 
men came  to  a  church  in  northern  Korea  during 
the  hour  of  service.  They  broke  eighty  windows, 
arrested  fourteen  men,  smashed  the  little  organ 
with  their  gun  butts,  smashed  a  beautiful  lamp, 
tore  up  the  mat  seats  from  the  floors,  and  burned 
them  in  front  of  the  church. 

At  the  funeral  service  of  another  young  Ko- 
rean preacher,  Pak  Suk  Han  in  Pyeng  Yang,  hun- 
dreds of  Japanese  soldiers  appeared  with  drawn 
bayonets  just  to  terrorize  the  people.  The  church 
was  full  of  Japanese  officers  with  drawn  swords. 

"What  would  have  happened  if  somebody  in  a 
fit  of  patriotism  had  shouted  'Mansei'?"  I  asked. 

"We  would  have  been  killed  instantly!"  said 
the  missionary  soberly.     'T  was  afraid  of  that!" 

A  prominent,  educated  and  English-speaking 
Korean  official,  told  me  that  in  a  conversation 
with  a  high  Japanese  official  that  that  particular 
Japanese  had  said  "Our  plan  will  be  to  assimilate 
the  Korean  people !" 

"But  that  will  be  impossible.    There  are  twenty 


92    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

million  of  us.  You  will  find  that  a  hard  thing 
to  do !"  said  this  Korean. 

The  Japanese  official  smiled  and  said  signifi- 
cantly, "We  know  the  way !" 

The  Korean  knew  what  that  meant.  It  meant 
extermination;  extermination  in  every  way  pos- 
sible. It  meant  extermination  by  introducing 
prostitution  in  Korea.  This  has  been  done. 
Korea  never  had  any  legalized  prostitution. 
Korea  never  knew  what  the  Red  Light  Section 
meant.  Japan's  first  move  was  to  introduce  that. 
She  sent  her  diseased  women  to  Korea.  She 
made  prostitution  ridiculously  cheap;  fifty  sen; 
which  is  twenty-five  cents  in  American  money. 

"Why?" 

It  is  one  of  her  ways  of  assimilation  which 
means  extermination  and  she  has  already  shot 
venereal  disease  rates  up  to  an  alarming  state 
in  Korea. 

Her  next  step  in  frightfulness  was  to  intro- 
duce opium.  Japanese  Agents  raise  thousands  of 
acres  of  Opium  in  Korea  and  sell  it.  This  is  an- 
other one  of  her  steps  in  the  process  of  assimila- 
tion or  extermination. 

Japan  has  stolen  from  poor  Koreans  their  rice 
lands  and  their  coal  beds.  The  process  is  for  a 
Japanese  company  to  buy  the  water  sources  of 
the  rice  paddies  below  and  then  refuse  to  let  the 
Koreans  have  water  for  his  rice  fields.    This  is 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIGHTFULNESS     93 

another  step  in  fright  fulness  that  will  finally  ex- 
terminate the  Korean  if  it  keeps  up  long  enough. 

The  recent  massacre  of  Koreans  in  Manchuria 
by  Japanese  soldiers  illustrate  the  Japanese  spirit. 

This  same  policy  of  frightfulness  is  carried  on 
in  Formosa  and  in  Siberia  and  wherever  the  Jap- 
anese army  and  gendarme  system  has  authority. 
It  is  worse  than  anything  that  the  Germans  ever 
did  in  France  or  Belgium.  It  has  its  only  parallel 
in  the  dark  ages. 

I  told  Baron  Saito,  Governor-General  of  Korea 
this  in  an  interview.  He  wanted  to  know  what 
America  thought  of  Japan's  rule  in  Korea.  I 
said :  "America  and  the  whole  civilized  world  is 
stirred  with  indignation  at  the  Japanese  rule  in 
Korea.  There  has  been  nothing  like  it  since  the 
dark  ages."  Then  I  read  him  a  quotation  from 
an  editorial  in  Zimt's  Herald,  a  church  paper 
published  in  Boston,  with  virtually  those  words 
in  it.  '} 

My  friend,  whom  I  met  first  in  France,  when 
he  came  back  from.  France  was  sent  to  Siberia  as 
a  Captain  in  the  American  Army. 

I  met  him  in  Manila  just  after  he  had  returned 
from  Siberia.  He,  in  common  with  all  Americans 
who  had  seen  the  Japanese  methods  of  frightful- 
ness in  Siberia,  was  filled  with  hatred. 

"One  night,"  he  said,  "a  company  of  Japanese 


94     FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

soldiers  entered  the  little  village  six  hundred 
miles  north  of  Vladivostok  where  we  were  lo- 
cated. They  announced  that  they  were  hunting 
for  Bolsheviks. 

"They  did  not  find  any  in  the  little  village,  al- 
though they  ruthlessly  broke  down  every  door  of 
every  home  in  that  village.  Then  they  went  out 
to  a  sawmill  about  three  miles  from  town  and 
brought  in  five  boys  between  the  ages  of  twelve 
and  eighteen. 

"After  torturing  these  boys  in  an  old  box  car 
for  two  days,  hanging  them  up  by  the  thumbs 
with  their  arms  behind  their  backs  until  they  were 
unconscious;  and  then  forcing  salt  water,  hot 
water,  cold  water,  and  water  with  pepper  in  it 
down  their  nostrils,  alternately ;  and  other  added 
cruelties ;  they  announced  to  the  village  that  they 
would  release  them  that  night  on  the  public 
square." 

"Did  they  do  it?"  I  asked  anxiously,  for  I  was 
stirred  to  my  soul's  depths  with  his  narration  of 
cruelties  in  Siberia. 

"Yes,  they  released  them ;  in  this  way : 

"They  called  all  the  friends  and  families  of  the 
prisoners  together  on  the  public  square.  Then 
they  dug  five  graves.  Then  five  Japanese  officers 
came  stalking  across  the  public  square,  whisking 
at  the  thistle-tops  with  swords  as  they  came ;  and 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIGHTFULNESS     95 

then  walked  up  to  these  innocent  Russian  boys, 
and  whacked  off  their  heads. 

"Had  they  been  tried?"  I  asked  indignantly. 

"They  had  been  given  no  trial.  They  were 
mere  boys,,  who,  probably,  didn't  even  know  what 
the  word  Bolshevik  meant.  It  was  the  worst 
illustration  of  fright  fulness  that  I  ever  saw,  al- 
though it  was  a  common  thing  for  the  Japanese 
troops  to  go  through  the  country  upsetting  the 
barrels  of  honey  that  the  poor  peasants  were  sav- 
ing up  for  the  long  winters;  rooting  up  their 
young  potatoes;  cutting  the  throats  of  their  colts 
and  cattle,  and  ravishing  the  land." 

"How  could  you  stand  it?" 

"We  couldn't  stand  it.  I  had  to  fight  to  keep 
my  company  of  Americans  from  sailing  into  them 
with  fists  and  bayonets.  It  would  have  meant 
war.  So  I  sent  word  back  to  headquarters  that 
we  were  out  of  provisions  and  we  were  called  back 
to  Vladivostok." 

Can  this  scene  be  duplicated  in  Formosa  and 
Korea,  where  the  Japanese  hold  sway  ? 

It  can. 

During  the  Independence  Movement  in  Korea 
this  thing  happened:  All  of  the  Korean  Chris- 
tians had  been  asked  to  assemble  in  a  church  for 
a  meeting.  When  they  were  all  in  the  church, 
the  Japanese  gendarme  set  fire  to  the  church  and 
then  fired  into  it,  killing  every  man. 


96    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

A  woman,  big  with  child,  came  running  toward 
the  church  having  heard  the  shooting  and  know- 
ing that  her  husband  was  within. 

A  big,  burly  Japanese  pushed  her  back. 

"What  do  you  want  ?"  he  cried  in  Korean. 

"I  want  to  go  in  there.  My  husband  is  there," 
she  cried  in  terror. 

"But  you  will  be  killed  if  you  go  in  there!'* 

"I  don't  care!    I  want  to  die  if  he  is  to  die!" 

"All  right!  You  shall  have  your  wish!"  said 
the  Japanese,  and  pulling  out  his  sword,  cut  off 
her  head,  killing  her  instantly.  She  fell  at  his 
feet  with  her  unborn  child ;  and  he  laughed  aloud 
at  the  spectacle. 

This  is  Japanese  frightfulness  and  it  can  be 
duplicated  by  many  missionaries  in  Korea  if  they 
dared  to  speak. 

But  the  minute  they  speak  and  tell  the  truth 
that  minute  they  are  sent  home  from  their  life 
work.  They  realize  that  this  leaves  the  Koreans 
to  the  utter  and  awful  cruelties  of  the  barbarous 
Japanese,  and  because  of  this,  in  spite  of  their 
indignation  they  hold  their  tongues  for  the  larger 
good.  But  they  eagerly  give  the  facts  to  those  of 
us  who  are  coming  back  to  America  so  that 
America  in  turn  may  know  what  is  going  on  in 
Korea.  That  is  the  only  hope;  that  the  indigna- 
tion of  a  righteous  world,  without  war,  may  bring 
pressure  to  bear  on  Japan  to  stop  these  terrible 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIGHTFULNESS     97 

cruelties  and  tortures;  this  unutterable  fright- 
fulness.  This  is  the  hope  of  the  missionaries ;  this 
is  the  only  hope  of  the  Koreans ! 

•  •  •  •  •  • 

I  don't  know  whether  or  not  it  was  because  I 
had  been  listening  for  so  long  to  the  most  brutal 
stories  of  Japanese  treatment  of  Korean  men, 
women  and  children ;  with  murder,  rapine,  burn- 
ing of  homes,  especially  Christian  homes;  beating 
of  a  mother  and  her  twelve-year-old  girl  from 
three  in  the  morning  until  eight  to  make  them 
reveal  the  hiding-place  of  their  preacher  daddy, 
that  the  crimson,  blood-red  sunset  I  witnessed  on 
my  last  night  in  Korea  seemed  to  me  like  a  "sun- 
set of  crimson  wounds."  All  I  know  is  that  it 
happened  in  Korea  while  I  was  there,  and  that  my 
soul  had  been,  for  a  solid  month,  stirred  to  the 
depths  of  its  righteous  wrath  over  the  things  that 
I  had  heard  first-hand  from  human  lips. 

But  there  it  was.  The  sky  was  blood-red.  At 
first  it  was  black,  a  somber  black.  Not  a  coal- 
black  but  a  slate  black.  Then  suddenly  just  at 
the  edge  of  the  horizon  a  crack  began  to  appear. 
It  was  a  slit  of  blood.  It  looked  more  like  a 
wound  than  anything  else  I  ever  saw.  The  slit 
of  blood  grew  larger  and  larger  in  the  slate-black 
clouds. 

Then  suddenly  all  over  the  horizon  these 
wounds  began  to  break  through  the  mass  of  black 


98    FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

clouds.  Some  of  these  slits  were  horizontal  slits, 
and  some  of  them  ran  in  graceful  curves.  Some 
of  them  looked  as  if  a  bayonet  had  been  lunged 
into  the  body  of  that  somber  cloud  and  a  great 
crimson  gash  was  made  with  ragged  edges  as  big 
as  a  house.  Then  it  looked  as  if  some  ruthless 
Japanese  gendarme  had  taken  his  sword  and 
slashed  a  rip  in  the  abdomen  of  that  sky;  and 
from  side  to  side  like  a  crescent  moon  appeared 
this  great  crimson  wound. 

I  had  never  seen  a  sunset  just  like  it.  But  there 
it  was.  It  seemed  that  there  was  back  of  that 
great  black  cloud  a  blood-red  planet,  pouring  its 
crimson  tides  like  a  great  waterfall  down  back  of 
that  slate-black  mass  until  finally  the  curtain  of 
black  began  to  tear,  and  the  blood  poured  through 
to  run  along  the  horizon,  and  splash  against  the 
clouds,  and  slit  its  way  like  wounds  through  the 
clouds  of  night. 

And  I  thought  of  something  else.  I  thought 
how  a  Man  once  was  crucified.  I  thought  how 
dark  the  skies  were  on  that  afternoon.  I  thought 
how  slate-colored  and  somber  all  life  seemed, 
especially  to  that  little  group  of  disciples.  I 
thought  of  the  wounds  in  His  hands  and  feet  and 
side.  I  thought  of  the  wounds  the  thorns  in  His 
crown  made,  and  of  the  blood  that  ran  over  His 
face.  I  could  see  Him  there  back  of  that  cloud 
in  Korea.     I  could  see  His  Christian  people  be- 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIGHTFULNESS     99 

ing  crucified  again  because  of  their  religion. 
I  could  see  Japanese  bayonets  thrust  into  His 
side  and  Japanese  nails  through  His  feet  and 
His  hands.  I  could  see  a  Japanese  crown  of 
thorns  on  His  head  because  He  said,  "Inasmuch 
as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these 
my  brethren  ye  have  done  it  unto  me."  And  I 
could  see  the  blood  of  his  wounds  breaking 
through  that  nation's  clouds  on  that  wonder  eve- 
ning of  the  "sunset  of  wounds"  back  of  the  Ko- 
rean mountains  in  December. 


CHAPTER   VI 

FEMININE    FLASH-LIGHTS 

ORIENTAL  women  are  fascinating-  to  Occi- 
dental men,"  said  a  newspaper  reporter  in  a 
Shanghai  hotel  lobby,  a  year  ago. 

"All  women  are  fascinating  to  Occidental  men. 
Take  the  French  girls  and  the  way  they  captured 
our  American  soldiers;  of  course,  these  brown- 
eyed,  brown-skinned,  graceful,  mysterious " 

"It's  just  as  I  said,"  replied  the  first  speaker 
interrupting  the  second  speaker,  "Oriental  girls 
are  more  fascinating  to  Occidental  men  than 
white  girls." 

"Yes — I  guess  you  are  right,  when  we  get 
down  to  the  honest  to  goodness  truth  of  the 
thing,"  said  an  American  oil  man.  "Take  that 
Javanese  girl  who  knocked  at  the  door  of  my 
room;  or  take  that  half-breed  Malay  girl  we  met 
on  the  ship  between  Singapore  and  Batavia;  or 
that  little  red-cheeked  Japanese  girl  in  Tokyo; 
or  that  Spanish  brunette  in  Manila ;  or — Oh,  Boy ! 
Do  you  remember  that  Chinese  half-breed,  with 
English  blood  in  her  veins  and  an  English  educa- 
tion in  her  brain  and  Paris  clothes  on  her  back, 

lOI 


102  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

and  American  pep  in  her  eyes,  and  Japanese  silk 
stockings  on  her " 

"Come  on !  Come  on !  We  didn't  call  on  you 
for  a  lecture  on  Oriental  girls  whom  you  have 
met.,"  said  the  first  speaker. 

Then  a  bell  boy  paged  me  and  I  lost  the  rest  of 
the  conversation. 

But  this  dialogue  set  me  to  thinking  on  the 
various  types  of  fascinating  Oriental  women;  the 
standing  they  have  in  the  world;  and  the  status  of 
their  living. 

There  were  the  Japanese  women;  beautiful, 
graceful,  red-cheeked,  small  of  stature,  wistful- 
eyed,  colorfully  dressed;  always  smiling  slaves  to 
their  men. 

The  well-trained  Geisha  girl  has,,  for  centuries, 
because  of  her  superior  education,  received  the 
confidences  of  Japanese  men;  while  a  Japanese 
man  would  scorn  to  talk  things  over  with  his 
wife. 

There  was  the  banquet  we  attended  at  the 
Imperial  Hotel  in  Tokyo.  Mr.  Uchida,  the  Min- 
ister of  Foreign  Affairs,  and  many  of  the  high 
officials  of  Japan  were  present  with  their  wives. 
Several  members  of  the  House  of  Parliament 
were  present  as  well  as  the  Secretary  to  Mr. 
Hara,  the  Prime  Minister.  Each  of  these  great 
leaders  of  Japan  had  his  wife  by  his  side  at  the 
banquet  table. 


FEMININE  FLASH-LIGHTS  103 

It  was  a  small  group. 

One  of  the  speakers  of  the  evening  said:  "Per- 
haps you  Americans  do  not  realize  that  this  ban- 
quet is  an  unusual  occasion  in  Japan.  I  think  that 
it  is  the  first  time  that  I  have  ever  attended  a 
banquet  in  all  my  life,  when  so  many  Japanese 
gentlemen  had  their  own  wives  with  them  at 
that  banquet.  It  is  a  very  unusual  thing  to  do, 
but  I  hope  that,  in  time,  it  will  become  more  com- 
mon in  Japan,  as  it  is  in  America." 

This  speech  was  met  with  amused  laughter  on 
the  part  of  the  Japanese  gentlemen  present;  but 
laughter  that  was  kindly ;  and  it  was  met  with  ap- 
plause on  the  part  of  the  Americans  present. 

It  was  typical  of  the  attitude  of  even  the  edu- 
cated Japanese  man  toward  the  matter  of  ap- 
pearing in  public  with  his  wife  at  his  side. 

Up  in  Sapporo,  on  the  island  of  Hokkaido,  we 
were  entertained  by  a  beautiful  Japanese  woman. 
We  had  been  away  from  America  for  several 
months  and  were  tired  of  eating  Japanese  food, 
so  when  we  were  invited  to  this  Japanese  home 
for  a  dinner  we  groaned. 

But  much  to  our  delight,  when  we  sat  down  we 
had  as  fine  an  American  dinner  as  any  of  us  had 
ever  eaten. 

I  turned  to  our  hostess,  a  most  beautiful  Japa- 
nese woman;  the  wife  of  the  Dean  of  the  College 


104  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

at  Sapporo ;  and  said :  "Do  you  have  servants  who 
know  how  to  cook  American  food?" 

*'No,  I  cooked  it  all  myself!"  she  said  much 
to  my  surprise  with  a  bow  and  a  smile. 

And  there  she  sat,  cool  and  poised  after  having* 
cooked  food  enough  for  fifteen  people  that  morn- 
ing; and  arranging  for  it  to  be  served  in  the  finest 
style;  with  place  cards,  salted  almonds,  Turkey, 
pudding,  vegetables  and  everything  that  makes 
an  American  dinner  good ;  including  a  fine  salad. 
There  she  sat;  as  cool,  calm  and  collected  as  if 
servants  had  done  all  of  the  work  that  morning 
instead  of  she  herself. 

And  never  in  all  of  my  life  have  I  seen  a  more 
gracious  hostess.  She  watched  the  wants  of 
every  guest.  She  noted  which  guests  liked  a 
special  food,  and  saw  to  it  that  they  had  plenty 
of  that  particular  food;  and,  in  addition  to  this 
she  kept  a  fascinating  line  of  conversation  going 
constantly  during  the  meal. 

"Do  you  live  in  American  fashion  or  Japanese 
fashion?"  I  asked  her,  knowing  that  she  had 
been  educated  in  America. 

"Both!"  was  her  reply.  "We  have  Japanese 
rooms  for  our  Japanese  guests  and  American 
rooms  for  our  European  and  American  guests." 

"But  how  do  you  live  yourselves ;  how  are  you 
training  your  children  ?"  I  asked  her. 

"We  are  training  our  daughters  to  live  in 


FEMININE  FLASH-LIGHTS  105 

American  style;  on  a  common  ground  with  the 
men.  That  is  the  better  way.  That  is  the  fairer 
way !  That  is  the  way  out  of  our  feminine  dark- 
ness!" 

She  said  it  quietly,  with  poise,  and  with  a  fine 
assurance  which  was  thrilling".  It  sounded  like  a 
call  to  battle,  like  a  trumpet  note  in  the  new  free- 
dom for  women. 

A  missionary  friend  told  me  at  the  conclusion 
of  that  meal  that  this  beautiful  young  Japanese 
hostess  whispered  to  her  Mother-in-law  during- 
the  dinner  a  phrase  that  sounded  strangely  like 
American  slang,  when  she  noted  that  her  mother- 
in-law  was  not  carrying  on  much  of  a  conversa- 
tion with  the  man  beside  her,  "Start  something! 
He  can  speak  Japanese  as  well  as  English !" 

At  that,  dear  Mrs.  Mother-in-law  started  an 
animated  conversation  in  Japanese  with  her 
silent  guest  on  her  left.  This  was  illustrative  of 
the  care  with  which  our  hostess  was  watching 
that  we  be  kept  happy  at  her  table.  It  was  a 
Feminine  Flash-light  that  I  do  not  care  to  for- 
get; an  illustration  of  the  possible  efficiency,  poise, 
grace,  beauty  and  sweetness  of  the  Japanese 
woman  of  the  future  when  she  shall  have  won 
her  rights  of  freedom  from  the  slavery  of  an 
inferior  position  to  man^in  the  social  scale. 

To  an  American,  the  position  of  woman  in 
regard  to  prostitution  in  Japan  is  a  terrible  thing. 


106  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

but  when  we  consider  the  light  in  which  the 
Ethical  thought  of  Japan  sees  it,  we  do  not  blame 
the  women  any  more  than  Jesus  blamed  the 
woman  taken  in  adultery  in  his  day. 

The  system  of  prostitution  is  run  by  the  Gov- 
ernment and  the  largest  income  that  the  Govern- 
ment has,  comes  from  the  sale  of  Sake,  the  na- 
tional drink,  and  its  houses  of  prostitution. 

A  woman  who  becomes  a  Prostitute  is  looked 
upon  as  a  heroine.  This  is  for  the  simple  reason 
that  she  is  given  a  matter  of  several  hundred  yen, 
it  depending  upon  her  form,  beauty  and  qualifica- 
tions for  her  position;  and  that  money  goes  to 
her  poor  parents.  When  she  leaves  her  little 
village  to  give  a  certain  number  of  the  years  of 
her  life  to  the  Yoshiwara  in  order  to  free  her  par- 
ents from  debt  she  is  lauded  and  feted  by  the  peo- 
ple of  her  village  and  sent  off  as  one  who  goes 
on  a  crusade  of  service. 

Prostitution  is  so  much  a  part  of  the  acknowl- 
edged life  of  Japan  that  Temples  for  prostitutes 
exist  where  they  may  go  and  pray.  In  one 
Temple  we  saw  large  numbers  of  photographs 
put  up  by  certain  girls  of  the  Yoshiwara  to  ad- 
vertise their  wares. 

Consequently  there  is  no  fine  tradition  of 
ethical  values  established  in  Japan  and  the  poor 
girl  herself  is  not  to  blame.  Nor  is  she  blamed; 
for  it  is  not  at  all  an  uncommon  thing  for  a 


FEMININE  FLASH-LIGHTS  107 

Japanese  girl  to  marry  out  of  a  house  of  prostitu- 
tion into  a  fine  family. 

One  of  the  terrible  Feminine  Flash-lights  that 
every  careful  traveler  discovers  in  the  Orient  is 
the  presence  of  Japanese  girls  in  the  segregated 
sections  of  Shanghai,  Seoul,  Peking,  Nanking; 
and  even  so  far  away  as  Singapore.  I  under- 
stand however  that  a  recent  order  from  the  Em- 
peror has  called  all  these  girls  back  to  Japan, 
which  is  an  upward  step  not  only  for  Japan  as  a 
nation;  but  for  the  womankind  of  Japan. 

It  was  in  a  Japanese  Hotel  in  northern  China 
that  Pat  McConnell  and  I  had  our  experience  with 
the  strange  ways  and  customs  of  Japan.  Pat  was 
taking  the  pictures  and  I  was  writing  the  stories. 

We  thought  it  would  be  an  unusual  experience 
to  stay  all  night  at  a  regular  Japanese  Inn.  We 
stayed. 

That  night,  much  to  the  amusement,  of  the 
missionaries  who  stayed  with  us,  three  beautiful 
Japanese  girls  came  gracefully  into  the  cold  room 
where  we  had  started  to  take  our  clothes  off. 

They  bowed  several  times  as  they  came  with 
cups  of  hot  tea. 

They  seemed  to  pay  particular  attention  to  me. 

All  three  of  them  bowed  to  me  first  and  then 
each  proceeded  to  select  an  individual  man  to 
whom  they  served  tea. 


108  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

I  took  it  for  granted  that  they  had  paid  this 
particular  attention  to  me  because  of  some  spe- 
cial characteristic  of  masculine  beauty  or  intel- 
lectual appearance;  or  atmosphere  of  greatness 
that  must  have  hovered  about  me  in  some  un- 
known fashion. 

I  made  the  mistake  of  swelling  up  with  pride 
and  bragging  about  this  attention  that  I  had  re- 
ceived. 

"Ah,  that's  because  of  your  bald  head.  They 
think  that  you  are  the  old  man  of  the  party. 
They  have  great  respect  for  old  age!"  the  mis- 
sionary said  with  a  roar  of  laughter. 

The  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  I  was  the 
youngest  of  the  party,  but  those  girls  had  selected 
me  as  the  venerable  member  of  the  group  of 
Americans. 

But  the  climax  came  when  these  young  ladies 
decided  to  stay  with  us  "To  the  bitter  end"  as 
Pat  called  it. 

After  filling  us  with-  tea  they  still  remained ; 
bowing  and  smiling;  even  though  they  could  not 
understand  a  word  we  were  saying  nor  we  a  word 
that  they  were  saying. 

"It's  one  o'clock  now !  I'd  like  to  get  to  bed," 
•said  Pat. 

"How  long  will  they  stay  with  us?"  I  asked. 

The  missionaries  only  grinned  in  reply. 


FEMININE  FLASH-LIGHTS  109 

"By  George,  I'm  going  to  take  my  shirt  off  and 
see  if  they  won't  go !"  said  Pat. 

He  took  it  off.  The  young  girl  who  was  serv- 
ing him  took  his  shirt  and  after  neatly  folding  it, 
laid  it  carefully  away. 

"So  that's  what  they're  waiting  for ;  to  undress 
us?"  queried  Pat  and  the  missionaries  laughed 
again,  waiting  to  see  what  would  happen. 

"They  can  go  as  far  as  they  like.  If  they  can 
stand  it.,  I  can!"  said  Pat. 

Then  he  took  off  his  shoes. 

A  young  lady  took  the  shoes,  carefully  brushed 
them  off,  and  put  them  away.  Then  he  took  off 
socks,  followed  by  his  trousers. 

It  looked  as  they  would  stay  until  Pat  got  into 
his  Pajamas.    He  was  in  a  corner. 

"It  seems  as  if  this  young  lady  wants  to  put  me 
to  bed  right !"  said  Pat,  with  a  grin. 

"That's  exactly  what  she  is  here  for.  It's  a 
hotel  custom  in  Japanese  hotels  and  we  get  so  that 
we  don't  think  anything  of  it.  They  bathe  in  the 
same  pool;  men  and  women  alike;  and  think 
nothing  of  it.  After  all,  modesty  is  not  entirely 
a  matter  of  clothes,  as  the  Japanese  prove." 

"Anyhow,  that's  what  I  call  service!"  said 
Pat  with  a  grin. 

It  was  a  cold  winter  night  in  Seoul,  Korea.  I 
had  been  invited  to  dinner  at  a  Korean  home; 


110  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

the  home  of  a  former  Governor  under  the  Korean 
regime;  and  now,  a  respected  official  under  the 
Japanese  rule. 

I  had  looked  forward  to  this  dinner  with  un- 
usual interest. 

We  took  Rickshas  to  get  there  and  nearly 
froze  on  the  way. 

We  took  both  our  shoes  and  our  coats  off  on 
the  back  porch  and  left  them  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  the  zero  weather  which  prevailed  on  that 
night. 

We  were  ushered  into  this  beautiful  home. 

A  room  was  full  of  men;  stately  sons  of  the 
family;  the  gray-bearded,  dignified  father;  but 
no  women,  not  a  single  woman.  I  wondered 
about  this,  for  I  knew  that  this  household  was 
noted  for  its  beautiful  daughters  and  a  wonder- 
ful mother.    The  missionaries  had  told  me  that. 

I  wondered  why  no  women  came  to  welcome 
me. 

Finally  we  sat  down  to  one  of  those  intermin- 
able Oriental  dinners,  with  thirty  or  forty 
courses;  squatted  on  our  haunches,  on  the  cold 
floor;  half-frozen,  cramped  and  uncomfortable. 

Then  in  came  a  beautiful  girl.  She  was  beauti- 
ful in  every  sense  of  the  word;  physically  and 
spiritually.  There  was  a  touch  of  refinement 
about  her  which  made  me  know  that  she  had  re- 
ceived an  English  education. 


FEMININE  FLASH-LIGHTS  111 

But  she  was  not  there  for  any  part  of  the  din- 
ner.   Not  at  all.    She  was  there  merely  to  serve. 

I  found  that  she  could  speak  English  and  every 
time  she  came  to  serve  me,  I  took  the  opportunity 
of  talking  with  her;  taking  a  chance  on  whether 
it  was  diplomatic  for  me  to  do  so  or  not.  I  was 
after  information. 

"You  speak  good  English  ?"  I  said.  "Why  do 
you  not  sit  down  and  eat  with  us  ?" 

She  laughed  aloud. 

"My  father  would  drop  over  dead  if  I  did.  It 
is  not  the  custom  in  Korea  for  the  women  of  the 
family  to  dine  with  the  men  on  an  occasion  like 
this.    We  eat  alone  in  the  kitchen." 

"Have  you  a  mother?" 

"Yes,  but  she  is  in  the  kitchen." 

"Will  I  not  get  to  meet  her  before  I  go?" 

"Perhaps?  Perhaps  not.  If  you  meet  her  at 
all  it  will  be  just  at  the  close,  of  the  evening, 
providing  my  father  thinks  to  call  her.  It  is  not 
important ;  so  our  Korean  men  think." 

"But  you ;  you  know  better  ?  You  have  been 
in  an  American  School?"  I  said,  as  she  came  in 
for  the  fifteenth  course  and  paused  a  moment  to 
talk  with  me. 

"Yes,  I  know  better!  I  know  the  American 
way  of  treating  women  is  the  Christian  way,"  she 
said  sadly. 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  that  way?     Do 


112  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

you  not  like  that  way  better  than  the  Korean 
way?"  I  asked. 

"The  American  way  is  much  better."  Then 
she  paused  and  much  to  my  delight  used  a  typical 
American  girl's  phrase,  with  an  appealing  touch 
of  pathos  in  her  voice  and  a  blush  of  crimson  in 
her  brown  cheeks,  "Why,  I  just  love  the  Ameri- 
can way!"  she  said  and  then  fled,  blushing  with 
shame,  as  if  she  had  said  something  immodest. 

I  did  not  see  her  again  that  evening.  Nor  did 
I  see  any  of  the  other  women  of  that  household. 
Nor  did  I  see  the  mother  of  the  home  at  all. 

It  was  in  a  Shanghai  hospital.  I  was  sitting 
beside  an  American  newspaper  friend  who  was 
at  the  head  of  the  Chinese  Information  Bureau. 
He  was  a  world-vagabond.  Beside  his  bed  sat  a 
beautiful  Chinese  girl,  who  had  been  educated  in 
England  and  whose  mother  was  a  Scotch  woman. 
Her  father  was  a  full-blooded  Chinese. 

"I  love  her  but  she  won't  marry  me!"  said 
my  friend  suddenly  looking  up  toward  the  Chinese 
girl. 

She  was  a  beautiful  girl  and  could  play  a 
piano  as  few  American  women  I  have  met.  She 
would  have  graced  any  social  room  in  America 
with  her  dark  beauty,  her  brown  eyes,  and  her 
Oriental  fire.  She  was  rich.  Her  father  was 
worth  several  millions ;  being  one  of  many  shrewd 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  HEAVEN,  PEKING. 

Long  before  a  single  cathedral  had  been  built  in  Europe 
this  beautiful  structure  was  erected. 


A    BEAUTITUL    THIRTEEK    STORY   PAGODA    XEAB    PEKING. 


MILLIONS  OF  WAYSIDE  TEMPLES  AND  SHRINES  ADORX  Till. 
FIELDS  AND  HIGHWAYS  EVERYWHERE  IN  JAPAN,  KOREA,  AND 
CHINA.   THIS   IS  ONE   OF  THEM.    A  SHRINE   AND  A  TEMPLE. 


A    SUNRISE    SILHOUETTE    PHOTOGRAPH    OF   SOME    OF   THE    HUN- 
DREDS  OF   BELLS   OF  BUDDHA   ON    BOROBOEDOER,    JAVA. 


FEMININE  FLASH-LIGHTS  118 

Chinese  business  men.  She  was  dressed  like  a 
Parisian  model,  in  the  latest  European  styles. 
She  was  in  China  for  the  first  time  in  her  life. 
Her  father  had  brought  her  back  to  marry  a 
Chinese  boy.  She  did  not  love  him.  She  did 
love  my  American  friend. 

"Why  will  you  not  marry  James?"  I  asked 
her. 

"My  father  would  kill  me,"  she  said  quietly. 

"Does  he  say  so?" 

"He  does.  He  went  to  America  a  week  ago; 
and  the  last  thing  he  said  was,  *If  you  marry  any- 
thing but  a  Chinese  I  will  kill  you !' " 

"Did  he  really  mean  it?"  I  asked  her,  aston- 
ished. 

"He  meant  it  more  than  anything  he  ever 
meant  in  his  life.  It  would  be  considered  a  dis- 
grace to  my  entire  family  if  I  married  anybody 
but  a  Chinese  boy." 

"Even  though  your  father  married  a  Scotch 
woman?"  I  said. 

"For  that  very  reason  it  is  imperative  that  I 
marry  my  own  blood,"  she  said. 

"That  is  terrible!"  I  replied  catching  my  first 
glimpse  of  the  strange  and  terrible  social  position 
in  which  a  girl  of  mixed  blood  is  placed  in  China. 

"You  see,,"  she  said  in  a  quiet,  refined  voice, 
with  a  marked  English  accent,  "I  have  an  English 
education  but  I  have  Chinese  blood.    I  can  never 


114  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

be  happy  marrying  a  Chinese  after  I  have  been 
educated  in  England.  I  can  never  be  happy  with 
Chinese  clothes,  Chinese  customs,  and  Chinese 
people.  And  yet  if  I  marry  the  man  I  love,  it  will 
break  my  father's  heart.  He  would  kill  me  to 
be  sure;  for  if  he  says  he  will,  that  means  that 
he  will  keep  his  word.  But  that  would  not  be  the 
worst  of  it.    To  die  would  be  easy." 

"What  would  be  the  worst  of  it?"  I  asked,  my 
heart  stirred  with  a  strangely  deep  sympathy  at 
this  beautiful  Chinese  girl's  dilemma. 

"The  worst  thing  would  be  that  it  would  break 
my  father's  heart !" 

Then  she  wept. 

That  was  my  first  glimpse  of  the  life  of  tragedy 
through  which  a  half-breed  woman  of  the  Orient 
has  to  go. 

I  met  them  in  the  Philippines,  with  Spanish 
and  American  blood  running  in  their  veins;  I 
met  Malay  girls  whose  fathers  had  been  German 
or  English;  I  met  Dyak  girls  whose  fathers  had 
been  Dutch;  and  Javanese  girls  whose  fathers 
had  been  either  American,  English  or  Dutch. 

I  stayed  with  such  a  woman  in  a  home  in 
Borneo.  She  had  been  a  Dyak  girl.  Yet  she  did 
not  look  it.  She  had  a  beautiful  home  with  beau- 
tiful English  speaking  children.  I  met  her  in  the 
interior  of  Borneo  a  hundred  miles  from  a  single 
white  woman.    And  yet  in  this  far  interior;  liv- 


FEMININE  FLASH-LIGHTS  115 

ing  with  her  English  husband  who  was  the  head 
of  a  mining  project;  she  was  keeping  intact  the 
English  education  of  her  children.  There  was  a 
piano  and  the  children  played  beautifully  while 
the  mother,  in  a  rich  contralto  voice  sang. 

She  was  graceful,  accomplished,  beautiful, 
poised  and  sweet. 

One  night  as  we  walked  alone  under  the  moon- 
light the  Englishman  opened  his  heart  to  me  and 
said,  "You  are  going  to  visit  the  Head-Hunting 
Dyaks  to-morrow.  You  will  see  their  abject 
squalor  and  filth.  You  will  be  surprised  when  I 
tell  you  that  my  wife  was  a  Dyak  girl  and  that 
I  took  her  out  of  a  Kampong  fifteen  years  ago 
and  took  her  to  England." 

"That's  a  lie!"  I  exclaimed. 

"It  is  the  truth !"  he  added. 

Somehow  his  statement  angered  me.  I  don't 
know  why.  Perhaps  it  was  the  unusual  heat  of 
the  tropics.  We  were  directly  on  the  Equator. 
I  would  have  fought  him  for  that  statement. 

But  it  was  true. 

"And  the  hell  of  it  was  that  when  I  took  her  to 
England  she  was  not  happy  and  my  people  would 
not  receive  her.  So  we  have  had  to  come  back 
to  Borneo  and  live  our  lives  in  this  fashion,  far 
from  civilization." 

He  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes. 

"That  is  the  fate  of  mixing  bloods  in  these 


116  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

tropical  lands,"  he  said  with  a  shudder.  "And  the 
woman  always  suffers  more  than  the  man !" 

I  met  another  Malay-English  girl  on  the  ship 
going  from  Singapore  to  Batavia,  Java. 

She  too  was  an  educated,  English-speaking  girl 
of  a  strange  beauty  and  fascination.  She  started 
to  talk  with  me  as  I  sat  alone  on  the  Dutch  ship. 
We  were  the  only  English-speaking  people  on 
board  and  we  felt  a  certain  comradeship.  We  sat 
an  entire  evening  talking  about  the  problem  of 
a  girl  of  mixed  blood  in  the  Malay  States. 

"White  men  always  assume  that  we  are  bad 
girls.  They  come  into  the  offices  where  we  work 
as  stenographers  and  insult  us.  It  is  that  taint 
of  mixed  blood.  We  have  the  longings  and  the 
ideals  of  the  best  blood  that  is  in  our  veins;  but 
the  skin  and  the  color  and  the  passions  of  the 
worst.  We  try  to  be  good;  some  of  us;  but 
everything  is  against  us.  We  can  never  marry 
white  men;  though  we  frequently  fall  in  love 
with  them  for  we  work  side  by  side  with  them  in 
the  offices.  But  when  it  comes  to  marrying  us 
they  fear  the  social  ban.  It  is  a  terrible  thing. 
There  is  no  way  out !  It  is  a  thing  that  has  been 
imposed  upon  us  from  the  generations  that  have 
gone.    We  pay !" 

I  shall  never  forget  her  brown  eyes,  her  brown 
skin,  her  heaving  breast,  as  the  great  Dutch  ship 


FEMININE  FLASH-LIGHTS  117 

cut  the  waves  of  the  South  China  Sea  bound  for 
Java. 

**Why  are  you  leaving  a  good  position  and 
going  to  Java?"  I  asked  her. 

"They  say  things  are  better  for  us  girls  in 
Java;  that  the  Dutch  are  not  so  particular.  I 
shall  no  doubt  be  homesick  for  Singapore  but  I 
am  going  to  try  Java  for  a  while.  My  sister 
is  there!" 

•  ••••• 

A  Feminine-Flash  light  that  has  its  humorous 
side  was  one  that  I  experienced  in  Borneo. 

We  had  gone  out  to  a  Dyak  village  to  take 
pictures. 

It  was  a  miserably  hot  morning.  That  night  I 
stayed  in  Pontianak  which  is  bisected  by  the 
Equator.  It  was  so  cold  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  that  I  had  to  get  up  and  put  on  a  night 
shirt ! 

The  next  day  we  tramped  ten  miles  through 
the  Jungle  to  a  Head-hunting  Dyak  village. 

I  had  been  taking  pictures  for  an  hour  in  this 
Kampong  when  six  of  the  most  beautiful  Dyak 
girls  came  in,  with  great  Bamboo  water  tubes 
flung  over  their  gracefully  strong  shoulders. 
Their  skin  looked  like  that  of  a  red  banana  from 
toe  to  chin.  They  were  stark  naked  save  for  a 
girdle  about  their  loins.  They  had  been  five  miles 
away  for  water. 


118  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

Their  skin  was  flushed  with  exercise.  There 
they  stood,  mystified  at  seeing  white  men  in  the 
village  Kampong. 

In  fact  they  were  terrified. 

Their  big  brown  eyes  bulged  out. 

Their  breasts  heaved  with  fear. 

I  said  to  the  missionary,  "Dyak  Madonnas! 
What  a  painting  they  would  make  ?" 

"Yes,  there  are  no  more  beautiful  women  any- 
where. They  look  like  bronze  statues.  A  Rodin, 
or  a  St.  Gaudens  would  go  wild  over  their  limbs 
and  bodies." 

I  asked  the  missionary  to  tell  them  that  I 
wanted  to  take  a  picture  of  them  just  as  they 
were,  standing  with  their  water  vessels  poised 
on  their  shoulders;  in  their  naked  splendor  and 
beauty. 

He  told  them. 

They  squealed  for  all  the  world  like  American 
girls  and  ran  for  dear  life,  disappearing  in  the 
flash  of  an  eye. 

He  tried  to  coax  them  to  come  out  to  get  a  pic- 
ture taken.  The  Missionary  could  speak  their 
language  but  they  would  only  peek  through  the 
doors  with  grinning  faces. 

Finally  they  agreed  that  we  could  take  their 
pictures  if  I  would  let  them  put  dresses  on. 

I  didn't  want  to  do  this ;  for  I  wanted  them  just 


FEMININE  FLASH-LIGHTS  119 

as  they  were ;  but  saw  that  they  were  adamant  in 
their  souls  even  if  their  brown  bodies  did  look 
as  soft  as  ripening  mangos;  and  as  beautiful  and 
brown. 

I  pictured  all  sorts  of  ugly  dresses;  discarded 
by  the  white  folks  and  given  to  them.  But  much 
to  my  surprise,  when  they  appeared  all  dressed 
up  for  the  picture,  every  last  one  of  them  had 
on  a  white  woman's  discarded  night  gown. 

I  wanted  to  laugh.  It  destroyed  their  pictur- 
esqueness  but  those  gowns  could  not  destroy  their 
symmetrical  beauty  of  limb  and  body. 

"That's  a  quick  way  to  dress  up !"  I  said  to  my 
missionary  friend. 

We  smiled  but  I  got  the  picture. 

And  back  of  these  Flash-lights  Feminine ;  is  the 
black  page  of  the  history  of  womankind  in  all  the 
Far  East;  with  footbinding  still  rampant  over 
nine-tenths  of  China;  baby-killing,  baby-selling, 
and  baby-slavery  which  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes 
time  and  time  again ;  with  slavery  of  womankind, 
from  Japan  down  to  Ceylon  the  regular  thing. 
But  there  is  still  hope  in  the  woman-heart  of  the 
Far  East;  and  the  hope  is  the  American  woman 
and  her  religion.  That  and  that  alone  will  break 
down  prejudices,  break  off  shackles,  and  tear  to 
bits  the  traditions  of  the  past. 


120  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

"The  women  suffer!  Yes,  the  women  always 
suffer !"  said  a  big  fellow  to  me  up  in  the  northern 
part  of  Luzon  in  the  Philippines  one  evening. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked  him,  scenting  a 
story. 

Then  the  man  told  me  of  a  cholera  epidemic 
that  he  had  passed  through;  of  how  he  had  tried 
to  care  for  the  sick,  even  though  he  was  not  a 
physician;  told  me  of  their  poor  superstitious 
methods  of  driving  away  the  "evil  spirits." 

He  told  of  how  he  had  gone  into  homes  where 
he  found  seven  inmates  dead  and  four  dying;  of 
how  he  tried  to  care  for  them  with  nothing 
medicinal  at  hand. 

Then  he  told  me  of  how  the  poor  people  went 
down  to  a  dirty  inland  river  and  had  killed  a  hog, 
taken  its  heart ;  killed  a  dog,  taken  its  heart ;  and 
then  after  putting  them  on  a  little  raft,  floated 
them  off  down  the  river  to  drive  the  cholera  away. 
Then  he  told  me  of  how  the  natives  had,  in  their 
desperation,  tied  tight  bands  about  their  ankles 
to  keep  the  evil  spirits  from  coming  up  out  of 
the  earth  into  their  bodies. 

"But  what  do  you  yourself  do  about  a  doctor. 
You  say  that  you  are  400  miles  from  a  doctor, 
even  here.  What  about  your  children,  when  they 
take  sick?"  I  asked  him,  and  then  was  sorry  that 
I  had  asked  the  question  because  of  a  terribly  hurt 
and  unutterably  sorrowful  look  in  his  eyes. 


FEMININE  FLASH-LIGHTS  121 

''Mother  and  I  don't  like  to  talk  about  that  or 
to  think  about  it!"  he  said  simply,  and  I  knew 
that  I  had  torn  open  an  old  wound  which  was 
just  over  his  heart. 

His  voice  broke  as  he  spoke,  and  he  looked 
at  the  woman  who  was  his  brave  helpmate  and 
said  again:  ''Mother  and  I  don't  like  to  think 
about  that !"  The  tears  ran  down  over  his  cheeks 
and  "Mother's"  too,  and  mine  also. 

"I  am  sorry !  I  am  sorry  if  I  have  opened  an 
old  wound!"  I  said,  quite  helpless  to  remedy  the 
damage  I  had  done.  I  felt  as  one  who  had  un- 
wittingly trodden  on  a  flower  bed  and  crushed 
some  violets.  They  bleed,  even  though  you  see 
no  blood.  I  saw  that  their  hearts  were  bleeding. 
But  he  spoke. 

"We  were  400  miles  from  a  doctor.  Baby  took 
sick.  If  we  could  have  had  a  doctor  she  would 
have  been  saved." 

"Now  Daddy,  we  do  not  know  for  certain  about 
that,"  said  the  ever-coftservative  woman  in  her. 

"There  was  not  a  Filipino  doctor.  She  died  in 
mother's  arms !" 

It  was  oppressively  silent  in  that  far-off  mis- 
sion home  for  a  few  minutes.  I  thought  some 
one  would  sob  aloud.  It  might  have  been  any  one 
of  us,  the  way  we  all  felt.  I  took  hold  of  my  cane 
chair  with  a  grip  that  numbed  my  hands  for  a 
half  hour  afterwards. 


CHAPTER   VII 

FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FUN 

ALL  the  "Peck's  Bad  Boys"  of  the  world  are 
not  confined  to  American  soil. 

I  found  them  all  over  the  Far  East;  especially 
in  China. 

I  was  annexed  by  one  of  them  who  became  a 
sort  of  a  guide  de  luxe  when  we  were  going 
through  the  ruined  Palaces  of  the  romantic 
regions  of  Peking. 

He  annexed  himself  to  us  in  somewhat  the 
same  fashion  as  a  thistle  or  a  burr  annexes  itself 
to  you  as  you  walk  through  the  field  where  thistles 
are  thick. 

He  was  an  acquired  asset  of  questionable  value. 
With  him  were  a  lot  of  followers  but  it  was 
plain  to  be  seen  that  he  was  the  leader  of  the 
gang;  which  was,  for  all  the  world,  like  a  typical 
street  gang  in  an  American  city. 

Who  could  pass  up  that  group  of  a  dozen  little 

rascals  who  followed  us  through  the  ruins  of  the 

old  Summer  Palace?     Who  could  resist  their 

imitations  of   everything  one  did?     I   sneezed 

and  the  little  rascals  sneezed  also.    I  counted  one, 

123 


IM  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

two,  three,,  four,  as  I  adjusted  my  Graflex  for  a 
picture  and  I  heard  a  chorus  of  laughing  "One, 
two,  three,  fours."  I  yelled  ahead  to  an  American 
member  of  the  party  and  said  "Wait!"  and  a 
dozen  boys  yelled  "Wait !" 

We  fell  in  love  with  the  dirty-faced  rascals. 
They  looked  to  be  a  nuisance  when  we  started 
and  I  wanted  them  driven  back,  but  before  we 
were  through  they  had  become  the  most  interest- 
ing part  of  the  whole  trip.  Sure  enough  we 
emptied  our  purses  of  pennies  and  some  white 
money.  The  little  fellow  who  was  in  his  bare 
feet  and  who  said,  with  a  real  touch  of  seven 
year  old  Chinese  humor,  "These  are  leather  shoes 
that  I  have  on  and  they  will  last  all  my  life,"  won 
our  hearts.    That  was  humor  with  a  vengeance. 

This  lad  was  happy.  No  wonder  then  that 
when  one  of  the  party  passed  him  an  extra  penny 
early  in  the  morning  he  winked  knowingly  as  one 
who  had  been  taken  into  the  inner  councils  of  af- 
fection. 

^^  And  no  wonder  that  he  followed  the  man  who 
gave  him  that  penny  to  the  end  of  the  morning, 
and  no  wonder  when  we  told  him  through  the 
interpreter  that  we  liked  the  boys  because  they 
were  good  boys;  he  said  in  return,  "Some  boys 
would  have  followed  you  around,  pulling  your 
coats  and  being  rude  and  yelling  at  you." 

The  nonchalant  way  in  which  they  admitted 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FUN  125 

that  they  were  good  boys  won  our  hearts  and  we 
came  back  penniless. 

Then  who  can  forget  the  little  rascals  who 
smiled  and  winked  back  in  the  midst  of  the  digni- 
fied Lama  ceremonies  over  at  the  Lama  Temple, 
proving  that  they  were,  after  all,  real  human 
boys  with  a  laugh  and  the  spirit  of  fun  in  their 
little  souls  in  spite  of  their  having  to  take  part 
in  this  dignified  chanting  service. 

It  was  fun  when  the  service  was  over  to  see 
them  tumble  out  of  the  Temple  so  fast  that  one 
boy  fell  and  about  six  fell  on  top  of  him  just  as 
American  boys  do  pouring  out  of  school.  I  even 
saw  one  lad  whack  another  one  on  the  back  of  his 
little  bald  head  and  a  scuffle  ensued.  They 
laughed,  fought,  tumbled  pell-mell,  got  up  again 
grinning,  winked  and  laughed  back  at  the  good 
natured  Americans  for  all  the  world  like  Ameri- 
can boys. 

The  Chinese  have  a  distinct  sense  of  humor 
and  it  is  very  much  like  that  which  is  found  in 
our  own  America.  Indeed  the  Chinese  are  like  us 
in  many  respects. 

The  Filipino  enjoys  a  good  joke  but  his  humor 
is  more  cruel  than  is  American  humor. 

The  Dyak  of  Borneo  has  a  sense  of  play  and 
fun  that  would  not  exactly  appeal  to  an  American 
mind;  although  there  are  those  who  claim  that 
American  football  is  a  near  kin  to  the  delightful 


126  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

game  of  Head-hunting  indulged  in  by  the  Dyaks 
of  Borneo. 

The  Dyaks  have  for  centuries  been  known  as 
the  head-hunters  of  the  Far  East.  They,  in 
common  with  the  Igorotes  of  the  Philippines,, 
have  had  the  playful  custom  of  going  out  when 
the  mood  took  them  and  bringing  in  a  few  heads 
just  as  our  Indians  used  to  get  scalps.  When  a 
Dyak  youth  wanted  to  marry  a  nice  young  Dyak 
girl  to  whom  he  had  taken  a  fancy  (and  I  can  as- 
sure the  reader  that  some  of  them  are  as  beauti- 
ful as  Rodin's  bronze  statues),  he  didn't  even 
dare  mention  his  desire  for  that  young  bronze 
beauty  until  he  had  brought  in  five  or  six  heads. 
After  that  he  had  some  standing  in  the  lady's 
sight.  Without  the  heads  he  had  no  more  chance 
of  winning  either  the  girl  herself  or  her  pa  or  ma 
or  any  of  the  Dyak  family  than  the  proverbial 
snowball  has  of  getting  through  Borneo  without 
melting.  It  just  simply  couldn't  be  done  accord- 
ing to  Dyak  etiquette. 

Head-hunting  was  a  game  between  tribes  also. 
When  two  tribes  of  Dyaks  felt  a  playful  mood 
coming  on,  they  would  challenge  each  other  to  a 
head-hunting  game.  The  game  would  last  for  a 
week  or  so  and  the  tribe  that  took  the  most  heads 
won.  It  was  nothing  like  "Tag  you're  it."  If  so, 
some  of  the  skulls  jthat  I  have  seen  at  Dyak  Com- 
pounds would  not  be  grinning  so  hideously  these 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FUN  127 

days  as  they  ornament  the  poles  of  certain  vain 
and  proud  Dyak  hunters. 

The  Battaks  of  Sumatra  also  have  a  playful 
custom  of  getting  rid  of  their  old  men.  When 
a  man  gets  so  old  that  they  think  it  is  about  time 
for  him  to  tell  his  last  tale,  they  put  him  up  a 
Cocoanut  tree.  Then  all  of  the  young  bucks  of 
the  village  get  together  and  try  to  shake  him 
down.  If  he  is  too  feeble  to  hold  on,  and  comes 
down,  that  is  a  sign  of  heaven  that  his  days  are 
through  and  they  cook  him  and  eat  him. 

The  Japanese  claim  to  have  a  great  sense  of 
humor.  Japanese  students  speaking  in  America, 
insist  that  this  is  true.  But  travelers  in  Japan  do 
not  find  it  so.  Indeed  if  Japan  had  a  sense  of 
humor,  it  would  keep  her  out  of  many  an  inter- 
national tangle.  She  does  not  know  how  to  laugh. 
Her  sense  of  dignity  is  so  exaggerated  that  she 
does  not  know  the  fine  art  of  smiling  and  laugh- 
ing at  herself. 

"What  does  Japan  most  need  to  learn?"  a  stu- 
dent asked  me. 

"To  laugh,"  I  replied. 

"I  think  that  you  are  right!  Your  Lincoln 
knew  how  to  laugh !"  was  his  response  as  he  went 
off  thoughtfully. 

I  was  advertised  to  speak  in  a  northern  college 
in  Japan.    The  Dean  of  the  school  wanted  to  ad- 


128   FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

vertise  me  so  that  the  students  would  all  come  out 
to  hear  me.    This  is  the  way  he  did  it : 

"Dr.  Stidger  is  a  college  student  who  played  with  the 
foot  ball  in  America.  He  is  a  man  with  the  bigness  of 
the  head !  He  reaches  the  six  feet  tall ;  the  four  feet 
around;  has  an  arm  like  an  ox  and  a  head  like  a  board!" 

I  was  not  certain  as  to  just  what  he  meant  by 
many  of  those  references,  but  I  was  assured  that 
they  were  intended  to  be  highly  complimentary 
to  me.  I  am  not  yet  sure  of  that  but  I  had  a 
good  laugh  just  the  same. 

The  story  is  told  of  a  ruthless  American  humor- 
ist Hotel-keeper  in  Singapore  who  was  entertain- 
ing a  group  of  Japanese  Officers  from  the  Japa- 
nese Navy.  This  American  had  no  love  for 
Japan.  He  also  knew  of  their  lack  of  humor;  so 
when  the  Japanese  Captain  arrived  at  the  hotel 
the  American  Manager  made  quite  an  extended 
speech  of  welcome,  as  his  American  friends  list- 
ened, greatly  amused. 

He  said  in  part :  "The  hotel  is  yours !  During 
your  stay  the  entire  force  of  servants  is  at  your 
disposal.  If  there  is  anything  that  you  want  that 
you  do  not  see,  please  ask  for  it." 

The  Japanese  Captain  bowed  continuously  and 
smiled;  sucking  in  his  breath  with  a  character- 
istic national  custom ;  the  same  sound  they  made 
as  they  eat  fried  eggs  in  a  Japanese  dining  car; 
a  sound  similar  to  the  old-fashioned  but  now 


OLD  BROMO  VOLCANO^  JAVA. 

"The  way  it  effervesces  Bromo  is  a  fitting  name,"  said 
the  author  when  he  saw  it  in  action. 


A    SIDE    VIEW    OF    HEALTH  UL    liOROUOEDOER    IN    JAVA. 

Said  by  travelers  to  malte  the  Pyramids  look  like  child's 
play  as  a  tremendous  piece  of  construction;  and  as  a  work 
of  art  to  have  no  rival  in  the  whole  world. 


.NAKKJ)  AM)  UTHERWISE. 

This  curious  conglomoration  of  Mongrel  children  watch- 
ing the  photographer  in  Borneo  where  Dyaks,  Chinese, 
Malay  and  others  mix  indiscriminately. 


A    DOG    ilAKKET    AilOXG    TilL    IGGOROTEES   OF    THE    I'KILIPPIXES. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FUN  129 

obsolete  method  of  drinking  coffee  from  a  saucer. 

"There  is  just  one  request  however  that  we  will 
have  to  make  of  you,  while  you  are  here  with  us 
in  the  hotel,"  continued  the  American  hotel  man- 
ager. 

"And  what  is  that  may  I  ask?"  inquired  the 
Japanese  Captain,  still  bowing  and  sucking  in  air 
through  his  teeth. 

"That  you  do  not  climb  around  in  the  trees!" 

The  Japanese  officers  did  not  see  the  joke  and 
did  not  even  smile  but  the  Americans  in  the  Far 
East  have  laughed  over  it  for  years. 

Which  reminds  one  of  the  night  on  the  Sambas 
River  when  a  hundred  little  monkeys  were  silhou- 
etted against  a  crimson  sunset. 

Red,  brown,  yellow,  golden,  blue  orchids 
flashed  in  the  sunlight;  and  flowers  of  every  hue 
under  God's  blue  skies  made  brilliant  the  river 
banks.  At  times  the  ship  went  so  close  that  I 
could  reach  out  and  grab  a  limb  of  a  tree,  much 
to  the  indignation  of  the  monkeys  who  chattered 
at  me  as  if  I  had  stolen  something.  Now  and 
then  a  big  lazy  alligator  slid  into  the  water  from 
the  muddy  banks  as  the  wave-wash  from  our 
propellor  frightened  him. 

Coming  back  down  the  Sambas  River,  along  its 
winding,  beautiful  way  we  sat  one  evening  and 
watched  a  crimson  sunset  from  the  deck  of  the 


130   FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

ship.  At  one  point  in  the  river  there  was  a  row 
of  dead,  bare  trees.  There  were  no  leaves  on 
the  branches — only  monkeys:  big  red  monkeys, 
which  they  call  "Beroks,"  and  little  gray  fellows, 
which  they  call  "Wahwahs."  These  monkeys 
were  strikingly  silhouetted  against  the  crimson 
sunset  in  strange  tropical  fashion.  From  the  tips 
of  those  dead  trees  down  to  the  lowest  branches 
dozens  of  monkeys  stood  like  sentinels,  or  romped 
like  children,  or  chattered  like  magpies.  Their 
long  curling  tails  silhouetted  below  the  branches 
against  the  light  of  evening. 

Most  Americans  who  go  in  and  out  of  Japan 
get  disgusted  with  the  regulations  that  policemen 
impose  upon  them. 

This  is  especially  true  of  those  Americans  liv- 
ing in  China  who  are  compelled,,  for  business 
reasons,  to  go  in  and  out  of  Japan,  for  at  every 
trip  they  are  required  to  answer  the  same  list 
of  questions.  I  traveled  from  Korea  into  Japan 
with  the  Military  Attache  of  the  Spanish  Lega- 
tion. When  we  landed  a  Japanese  officer  who  had 
known  hipi  for  many  years  insisted  upon  his 
answering  the  usual  questions. 

"I've  been  in  this  country  for  ten  years  and 
yet  I  never  go  out  or  in  that  they  do  not  compel 
me  to  go  through  the  same  foolish  police  regula- 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FUN  181 

tions  which  they  have  copied  from  Germany  and 
haven't  sense  enough  to  give  up !"  he  said  indig- 
nantly. 

I  also  traveled  with  a  party  in  which  there  was 
a  Methodist  Bishop's  wife.  This  Bishop's  wife 
absolutely  refused  to  give  the  Japanese  police- 
man her  age.  Not  that  she  had  any  reason  to 
be  ashamed  of  her  age.  In  fact  she  could  easily 
have  passed  for  twenty  years  younger  than  she 
probably  was,  but  she  just  had  the  average  Amer- 
ican woman's  spunk  and  refused  to  give  it. 

For  a  few  minutes  it  looked  as  if  diplomatic 
relations  between  Japan  and  America  might  be 
seriously  cracked,  if  not  broken;  for  the  Japanese 
officer  had  no  sense  of  humor.  That  is  one  of  the 
chief  defects  of  the  Japanese  police  and  military 
system.  It  has  no  sense  of  humor.  It  takes  it- 
self too  seriously.    It  does  not  know  how  to  laugh. 

To  the  eight  or  ten  Americans  in  the  party 
the  whole  matter  was  a  huge  joke  and  we  ad- 
mired the  spunk  of  the  Bishop's  wife,  but  the  poor 
Japanese  police  officer  was  facing  what  he 
thought  was  an  international  problem. 

Need  it  be  said  that  the  whole  matter  was 
finally  settled  to  the  entire  satisfaction;  not  of  the 
Japanese  officer,  but  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of 
the  Bishop's  wife. 


132  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

A  friend  of  mine  who  happens  to  be  in  busi- 
ness in  the  Orient  got  so  tried  of  being  inter- 
viewed, trailed^  and  made  to  answer  innumerable 
questions  about  his  mother,  grandmother,  etc., 
that  one  day  on  landing  in  Yokohama,  in  a  spirit 
of  fun,  he  answered  the  officer's  questions  in  this 
manner : 

"How  old  are  you?" 

"Thirty-six." 

"Have  you  a  family?" 

"Yes." 

"How  many  children  ?" 

"Three." 

"How  old  are  they?" 

"One  is  thirty-eight,  one  forty,  and  one  forty- 
five." 

"What  is  your  occupation  ?" 

"Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Greenland  Navy." 

"What  are  you  doing  in  Japan?" 

"Getting  a  cargo  of  ice  to  take  back  to  Green- 
land." 

After  satisfying  his  appetite  for  information, 
the  Japanese  police  officer  departed  to  make  his 
reports,  while  the  young  American  went  to  his 
hotel  with  a  grin  all  over  his  face. 

While  he  was  eating  his  dinner  that  evening 
suddenly  the  Japanese  officer  appeared  in  the  din- 
ing room  with  a  big  smile  on  his  face  and  walked 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FUN  133 

over  to  where  the  American  sat  with  a  group  of 

friends. 
As  he  approached  the  American's  table  he  said 

with  a  grin,  "You  American!     I  know!     You 

American !" 

''How  did  you  guess  it,  my  friend?" 

"You  make  me  one  tam  fool !"  he  said  holding 

out  the  report. 

•  ••••• 

Some  of  the  most  laughable  things  that  one 
sees  in  the  Orient  are  the  Japanese  signs  trans- 
lated into  English  by  some  Japanese  merchant 
who  has  picked  up  a  dash  of  English  here  and 
there. 

One  such  sign  which  caused  a  lot  of  amusement 
was  that  of  a  tailor  who  was  trying  to  cater  to 
American  Tourist  trade.  He  had,  evidently,  also 
had  some  contact  with  the  spiritual  phraseology 
of  the  missionaries.  He  had  painted  on  a  big 
sign: 

"BUY  OUR  PANCE! 

THEY  FIT  YOU  BETTER  AND 

THEY  WARM  YOUR  LEGS  LIKE  THE 

LOVE  OF  GOD!" 

Perhaps  the  most  exhilaratingly  humorous 
thing  that  the  Japanese  have  perpetrated  on  the 
Koreans  was  a  list  of  advices  printed  and  posted 
all  over  Korea  by  the  Police  Departrnent  as  to 
the  regulation  of  Fords: 


134  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

RULES! 

1.  At  the  rise  of  hand  of  policeman,  stop  rapidly.  Do 
not  pass  him  by  or  otherwise  disrespect  him. 

2.  When  a  passenger  of  the  foot  hove  in  sight,  tootle 
the  horn  trumpet  to  him  melodiously  at  first.  If  he 
still  obstacles  your  passage,  tootle  him  with  vigor  and 
express  by  word  of  the  mouth  the  warning,  "hi,  hi." 

3.  Beware  of  the  wandering  horse  that  he  shall  not  take 
fright  as  you  pass  him.  Do  not  explode  the  exhaust 
box  at  him.  Go  soothingly  by,  or  stop  by  the  road- 
side till  he  gently  pass  away. 

4.  Give  big  space  to  the  festive  dog  that  make  sport  in 
the  roadway.  Avoid  entanglement  of  dog  with  your 
wheel  spokes. 

5.  Go  soothingly  on  the  grease-mud,  as  there  lurk 
the  skid-demon.  Press  the  brake  of  the  foot  as  you 
roll  around  the  corners  to  save  the  collapse  and  tie- 
up. 

6.  Number  of  people  you  put  in  the  Ford:  You  put 
two  in  the  front  house  and  three  in  the  back  house. 

There  were  other  rules  but  this  list  will  be 
sufficient  as  a  Flash-light  of  Fun  to  give  some 
idea  of  the  ridiculous  way  in  which  the  average 
Japanese  twists  the  ideas  and  phraseology  of 
English  in  the  translations. 

I  saw  one  great  sign  which  brought  a  smile.  It 
was  up  on  the  island  of  Hokkaido.  It  had  printed 
in  large  English  letters: 

"GET  YOUR  MOTHER'S  MILK  HERE!" 

Below  that  sentence  there  was  a  picture  of  a 
cow  which  looked  as  much  like  a  combination  of 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FUN  135 

an  Elephant  and  a  Camel  as  anything  I  know. 
The  artist  must  have  been  a  wonder.  Attached 
to  each  of  the  cow's  udders  were  long  lines  of 
hose  that  ran  for  about  ten  feet  across  a  big  bill- 
board. At  the  end  of  each  line  of  hose  was  a 
nipple,  like  our  American  baby-nipples.  At  the 
end  of  each  nipple  there  was  a  man-sized  baby 
pulling  away  at  the  nipple.  It  was  one  of  the 
funniest  advertising  signs  I  ever  saw.  I  watched 
several  Americans  look  up  at  it  and  every  one  of 
them  laughed  aloud.  And  the  funny  thing  about 
it  was  that  it  was  intended  to  be  a  serious  adver- 
tising sign. 

•  ••••• 

At  a  banquet  given  in  the  Imperial  Hotel  in 
Tokyo  one  of  the  most  side-splitting  incidents 
happened  unintentionally  that  ever  happened  at 
any  banquet  anywhere. 

One  of  the  sons  of  a  great  Japanese  business 
man  was  speaking.  The  banquet  was  in  honor  of 
a  well-known  College  President  from  America 
who  had  come  to  take  up  work  in  the  Orient. 
This  banquet  was  to  welcome  him  officially  to 
Japan. 

One  of  the  speakers,  sitting  beside  Mr.  Uchida, 
the  Foreign  Minister,  had  been  a  student  in  Amer- 
ica where  this  man  was  formerly  the  college 
president  and  he  was  trying  to  make  the  crowd 
see  how  happy  he  was  to  welcome  the  president 


136  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

to  Japan.  He  did  it  in  the  following  language  as 
nearly  as  I  can  remember  it : 

"I  feel  like  a  cartoon  I  see  in  your  peculiar 
paper — what  you  call  him — Piickf  Judge?  No 
— ^he  bin  in  that  peculiar  paper,  Life?  That  was 
he. 

"This  picture;  he  shows  two  dogs  talking  to 
each  other. 

''One  dog — ^he  a  great,  what  you  call  him — 
Coolie?  Pug?  Yes,  he  was  a  Scottish  Coolie. 
The  other  was  a  little  wee  dog;  a  Pugnacious 
Dog,  I  think  you  call  him. 

"The  little  dog  he  have  his  tail  all  done  up  in 
the  bandages. 

"The  big  dog  say,  'Little  dog,  for  why  you  have 
your  tail  all  bandaged  up  like  that  ?  You  have  an 
accident?' 

"  'No,'  say  the  little  dog,  'but  my  master,  he 
just  come  home  from  France,  and  I  am  so  glad 
to  see  him  I  bin  wagging  my  tail  all  day  long 
until  it  get  broke  and  I  have  to  have  him  wrapped 
up  like  this.'  " 

Then  the  speaker  turned  dramatically — with 
the  deepest  sense  of  seriousness;  without  a  trace 
of  a  smile  on  his  face,  without  a  glimmer  of  con- 
sciousness of  the  fact  that  the  Americans  at  that 
banquet  were  biting  their  teeth  to  keep  from 
bursting  into  laughter ;  and  with  a  grand  flourish, 
pointed  to  the  American  dignitary  and  said,  "I 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FUN  137 

feel  just  like  that  little  dog.  I  so  glad  to  see 
Dr. come  to  Japan  that  I  have  been  wag- 
ging my  tail  all  day  long." 

But  he  got  no  further.  The  American  crowd; 
full-dressed,  and  full  of  dignity  as  it  was;  ex- 
ploded. That  speech  was  too  much,  even  for  the 
sake  of  international  courtesy,  to  expect  such  a 
crowd  to  hold  in.  Fortunately  most  of  the  edu- 
cated Japanese  there  saw  the  joke  and  joined  in 
the  laugh. 

•  ••••• 

We  had  a  funny  experience  in  a  dining  car  on 
a  Japanese  train  coming  from  northern  Japan 
down  to  Tokyo  one  evening. 

A  well-dressed  Japanese  in  a  rich  Kimono  sat 
drinking  heavily  at  a  table  a  few  feet  from  us. 

Suddenly  he  looked  up  and  yelled  ''Silence!" 
looking  directly  at  us. 

It  was  so  sudden  and  so  funny  that  I  laughed. 
This  made  the  Japanese  gentleman  angry. 

.Then  he  let  forth  a  more  extended  English 
sentence.  Later  we  figured  that  it  was  the  only 
sentence  in  English  that  he  knew,  and  that  he 
had  learned  that  sentence  by  sitting  at  the  feet 
of  some  stern,  English  teacher  who  had  occasion 
to  reiterate  that  sentence  frequently. 

This  drunken  Japanese  looked  at  me  sternly 
for  laughing  and  said,  "Silence!  All  gentlemen 
must  be  silent!" 


138  IFLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

This  was  too  much  for  my  sense  of  humor  and 
I  laughed  again. 

"Silence!  All  gentlemen  must  be  silent!"  he 
yelled  a  third  time. 

"We  must  get  away  from  him ;  or  we'll  get  into 
trouble.  I  can't  keep  from  laughing  when  he 
repeats  that,"  I  said  to  Dr.  Goucher. 

We  all  moved  back  to  another  table,  but  Dr. 
Goucher  sat  by  himself  at  a  little  table.  This 
moving,  insulted  the  drunken  Japanese  and  he 
came  back  to  where  Dr.  Goucher  sat  and  leered 
into  his  face  yelling  once  again,  "All  gentlemen 
must  be  silent !" 

At  this  one  of  the  party  jumped  to  the  side  of 
Dr.  Goucher  and  took  the  Japanese  by  the 
shoulder  and  turned  him  around  and  said,  "Go! 
Sit  down,  fool !" 

The  train  was  whirling  through  the  night. 
There  were  mutterings  and  imprecations  among 
the  Japanese  and  we  thought  that  they  were  di- 
rected toward  us ;  but  a  missionary  who  could  un- 
derstand the  language,  said  that  the  whole  crowd 
of  Japanese  was  severely  reprimanding  the 
drunken  Japanese  for  insulting  foreigners.  They 
told  him  in  Japanese  phrases  that  he  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  insulting  foreigners  in  his  own 
country. 

About  five  minutes  after  this  he  suddenly 
left  his  seat,  came  staggering  down  the  aisle  of 


FLASH-LIGHTS  'OF  FUN  139 

the  car  with  a  plate  full  of  big  red  apples  and 
offered  an  apple  to  each  one  of  us  as  a  peace 
offering. 

We  got  to  calling  him,  in  our  party  "Old  Mr. 
'All  gentlemen  must  be  silent!'"  and  he 'came  to 
be  a  real  character  in  our  fun. 

But  one  morning  a  month  later  as  we  were  all 
boarding  a  train  in  Fusan,  Korea,  bound  for 
Seoul,  who  should  be  sitting  in  the  car  but  "Old 
Mr.  'All  gentlemen  must  be  silent.'  " 

This  time  he  was  in  American  clothes.  We  had 
a  Japanese  friend  with  us.  We  told  this  friend 
about  the  incident  on  the  train  in  northern  Japan 
and  asked  him  who  the  man  was. 

"Why  that  is  a  member  of  the  House  of  Lords 
and  he  is  going  up  to  Korea  representing  the  Diet 
to  make  a  report  on  the  Korean  outrages,"  we 
were  told. 

Another  month  passed  and  I  was  coming  back 
from  Seoul,  Korea,  to  Tokio,  Japan,  when  I 
suddenly. ran  into  our  old  friend  "All  gentlemen 
must  be  silent !"  This  time  he  was  drunk  again, 
and  sitting  in  a  Japanese  dining  car  with  the  same 
Kimono  on  that  he  had  worn  the  first  time  we 
saw  him.    He  saw  me  enter  the  car. 

I  tried  to  avoid  him,,  but  he  was  not  to  let  this 
opportunity  for  international  courtesy  go  by  un- 
noticed and  unimproved.  So,  much  to  my  de- 
light and  surprise,  he  arose,  and  made  a  low  bow. 


140  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

I  bowed  back.  He  made  another  bow  until  his 
nose  almost  touched  the  car.  I  made  a  return 
bow.  He  made  a  third  one.  I  followed  suit. 
He  made  a  fourth.  I  made  a  fourth,  although  I 
was  beginning  to  feel  dizzy  and  my  insides  were 
beginning  to  complain. 

I  wondered  when  the  thing  would  stop.  I 
thought  of  a  hundred  fat  men  I  had  seen  on  a 
Gymnasium  floor  trying  to  do  the  same  thing 
and  touch  the  floor  with  their  hands.  I  knew 
that  there  was  a  limit  to  my  endurance  in  a  test 
of  this  kind.  .  He  bowed  five,  six,  seven,  eight, 
nine,  ten  times,  and  I  bowed  back.  I  could  see 
things  whirling  around  me. 

"Blame  it,  why  doesn't  he  stop  some  time!"  I 
said  to  myself. 

I  was  desperate.  Then  suddenly  I  looked  at 
him  and  he  looked  at  me  and  he  said,  with  great 
dignity,  "All  gentlemen  must  be  silent!"  and  sat 
down,,  with  his  friends  and  his  wines. 

I  don't  know  whether  he  realized  how  funny  it 
was  or  not.  I  don't  know  whether  he  even  knew 
what  he  was  saying  in  his  drunken  condition,  but 
I  do  know  that  when  I  got  out  of  that  car  into  the 
vestibule  I  had  the  laugh  of  my  life.  A  Japanese 
woman  came  by,  smiled  at  me  and  I  am  sure  said 
to  herself: 

"Ah,  these  Americans  they  are  all  crazy!" 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FUN  141 

The  last  Flash-light  of  Fun  is  a  picture  from 
the  Philippines. 

I  have  spoken  in  the  chapter  on  "Flash-lights 
of  Faith"  of  the  trip  to  the  Negrito  tribe,  but  in 
that  chapter  I  did  not  speak  of  the  desperate  ad- 
venture of  the  trip  back  down  the  jungle  trail  to 
civilization  after  the  experience  with  the  old  man. 

For  the  second  time  on  that  memorable  day  I 
dropped  in  my  tracks  with  a  sunstroke.  My  legs 
refused  to  move.  My  muscles  were  congested 
with  waste  matter  and  evidently  my  brain  was 
also.  When  I  returned  to  consciousness  I  saw 
lying  beside  me  Mr.  Huddleston,  an  old  mission- 
ary who  had  been  in  the  Philippines  for  many 
years.  Across  from  him  was  a  naked  Negrito 
who  was  acting  as  our  guide. 

I  looked  up  in  a  tree  above  us  and  saw  what  I 
thought  was  a  group  of  monkeys. 

"Look  at  the  monkeys !"  I  said  to  the  mission- 
ary. 

"There  are  no  monkeys  in  that  tree!"  he  said. 

That  made  me  angry.  My  mind  was  affected 
by  the  sun  to  such  an  extent  that  I  had  an  insane 
desire  to  grab  the  Bolo  of  the  Negrito  guide  out 
of  his  belt  and  run  it  through  the  missionary.  I 
made  a  determined  mental  effort  to  do  so,,  but 
my  arm  would  not  work.  I  strove  as  one  strives 
in  a  dream  when  he  is  trying  to  run  away  from 
some  imagined  danger  and  his  feet  are  tied  down. 


142  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

If  I  could  have  gotten  my  hands  on  that  bolo  I 
would  have  run  it  through  the  missionary  without 
a  minute's  hesitation. 

But  my  mind  was  detracted  from  this  thought 
by  two  large  elephants  which  I  suddenly  saw  run- 
ning down  the  path  on  which  we  were  lying.  I 
yelled  aloud! 

"The  elephants!  They  will  trample  us  man! 
Look !  There  they  come !"  I  cried  pointing  up  the 
trail  on  which  we  were  lying. 

"Why  you're  plumb  crazy  man!  You've 
missed  too  many  boats!  That  sun's  got  you! 
There  are  no  elephants  on  this  trail !" 

"But  I  know  elephants  when  I  see  them!"  I 
cried  and  tried  to  roll  out  of  the  trail  but  again 
found  it  impossible  to  make  my  brain  and  my 
muscles  coordinate.  It  was  a  terrible  moment 
to  me. 

"My  God  man!  Are  you  crazy!  I  know  ele- 
phants when  I  see  them.  They're  right  on  us 
now !    Help  me  out  of  here !    I  can't  move !" 

"I  tell  you  there  are  no  elephants  and  there  are 
no  monkeys  in  these  islands.  I've  been  here  twen- 
ty years  or  more !" 

"But  I  know  elephants  when  I  see  them!" 

But  just  at  that  moment  a  much  greater  dan- 
ger confronted  us,  for  I  saw  three  tigers  leap 
out  of  the  jungle  and  start  after  the  two  ele- 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FUN  143 

phants ;  right  down  the  trail  toward  us.  Then  I 
knew  that  we  were  as  good  as  dead. 

I  yelled:  "Tigers!  Tigers!  They  are  running 
after  the  elephants !    They  are  on  top  of  us !" 

The  fool  of  a  missionary  laughed  aloud,  as  he 
lay  on  the  trail  and  said,  "Plumb  crazy !  Plumb 
crazy!    Sun's  got  him!    Sun's  got  him!" 

"Sun's  got  who,  fool?  The  elephants  and 
tigers  will  kill  us  in  about  a  minute!" 

But  just  then  something  happened  which  upset 
my  calculations  and  made  me  have  a  feeling  that 
— after  all — perhaps  the  old  missionary  was  right 
— for  suddenly  those  two  elephants;  being  too 
closely  pursued  by  the  tigers;  nonchalantly  flew 
into  the  air  like  two  great  birds,  and  lighted  in 
the  tree  over  our  heads  where  I  thought  the 
monkeys  were.  If  those  elephants  hadn't  started 
to  fly ;  I  should  still  be  arguing  with  the  mission- 
ary; but  as  it  turned  out;  I  shut  my  fool  mouth 
and  decided  that  the  missionary  was  right  and 
that  I  had  "Missed  too  many  boats." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FREEDOM 

SELF-DETERMINATION!"  That  phrase 
has  set  the  whole  world  on  fire ! 

"Independence!"  That  word  somehow  has 
awakened  the  Oriental  world;  awakened  that 
mass  of  humanity  as  it  has  never  been  awakened 
before. 

Korea  perhaps  has  thrilled  to  this  awakening- 
as  no  other  section  of  the  Orient  or  the  Near  and 
Far  East.  India's  millions  are  restless;  the  Fili- 
pino is  hungry  for  Independence  although  he  is 
loyal  to  the  United  States;  but  Korea  has  the 
matter  set  in  its  heart  like  adamant.  This  deter- 
mination will  never  be  broken;  Korea  will  never 
be  conquered  by  Japan ! 

This  dream  of  complete  and  full  independence 
is  buried  in  the  souls  of  the  children,  as  well  as  in 
the  souls  of  the  brave  women,  and  of  the  old  men 
of  Korea. 

'Tt  is  one  of  the  most  thrilling  things  I  have 
ever  seen  in  the  Orient!"  said  a  man  on  the  Edi- 
torial staff  of  Millard's  Weekly.  "It  is  the  most 
significant  outcome  of  the  war;  Korea's  passion 

145 


146  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

for  independence,  and  the  Student  Movement  in 
China!" 

I  said  to  a  business  man  of  California  who  had 
traveled  all  over  the  Orient  and  who  had  been 
sent  as  part  of  the  Commission  that  prepared  the 
way  for  the  abandonment  of  the  Picture  Bride 
custom,  "What  is  the  most  significant  thing  you 
have  seen  in  the  Orient  ?" 

"The  determination  of  the  Koreans  for  Self- 
determination  !"  was  his  quick  reply. 

"Will  they  get  it?" 

"It  is  inevitable  in  time!"  he  responded,  and 
then  he  added :  "Why  the  little  rascals ;  the  chil- 
dren, I  mean;  paint  the  Korean  flags  on  their 
brown  bellies,  because  the  Japanese  gendarmes 
will  not  allow  them  to  display  the  Korean  flag  in 
public !"  and  he  laughed  aloud  at  the  memory. 

"Have  you  seen  Korean  kiddies  with  flags 
painted  on  their  stomachs?" 

"Dozens  of  them.  They  like  to  show  them  to 
Americans,"  he  said. 

A  week  later  I  was  walking  with  a  Korean 
missionary  and  asked  him  if  what  the  business 
man  from  California  had  told  me  about  the  chil- 
dren was  true  and  he  said,  "Wait  until  we  find  a 
group  of  them." 

We  waited  for  only  a  few  minutes  when  we 
ran  into  a  crowd  coming  home  from  school.    A 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FREEDOM  147 

friendly  smile  and  a  low-voiced  "Mansei"  got  at- 
tention. 

Then  we  pointed  to  our  own  stomachs. 

In  a  flash  they  caught  on  to  what  we  wanted 
and,  looking  around  cautiously,  each  little  rascal 
untied  his  robe  and  there,  sure  enough  was  the 
flag  of  his  country  painted  on  his  stomach. 

"That  is  one  of  the  most  thrilling  sights  I  have 
seen  in  the  Orient !"  I  said  with  tears  in  my  eyes. 
*Tf  the  children  of  the  land  feel  that  way,  Korea 
will  never  be  conquered !" 

''The  American  understands!  The  American 
understands!"  one  of  the  little  bright-eyed  boys 
said  to  the  missionary  in  Korean. 

A  missionary  was  teaching  a  class  of  Koreans 
about  Heaven. 

A  little  hand  shot  up. 

The  missionary  nodded  that  the  child  could 
speak. 

"Will  there  be  any  Japs  in  Heaven?" 

This  was  a  baffling  question;  for  diplomatic 
destinies  were  at  stake.  But  missionaries  are 
usually  honest,  so  she  said,  "Yes,  if  they  are  good 
Japs!" 

"Then  I  don't  want  to  go !"  said  the  little  eight- 
year-old  Korean  with  emphasis. 

Another  teacher  was  telling  a  class  in  Geogra- 
phy to  draw  a  map  of  the  Orient. 


148  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

One  Korean  child  said,  "Do  we  have  to  put  in 
that  little  group  of  islands  east  of  the  coast  of 
China?" 

I  met  one  Korean  whom  I  had  known  in 
America.  He  was  educated  in  the  American  uni- 
versities. He  was  in  every  sense  of  the  word  a 
gentleman  and  an  intellectual. 

He  told  me  that  the  older  children  of  his  family- 
had  taught  the  nine-months-old  baby  to  raise  its 
hands  in  the  air  above  its  head  whenever  the 
word  "Mansei"  was  spoken. 

I  got  an  electrical  shock  of  patriotism  the  day 
I  saw  that  tiny  child  lift  its  little  arms  above  its 
head  when  that  sacred  word  was  spoken.  It  was 
like  a  benediction  of  freedom ! 

"This  posture  of  the  child  is  more  significant," 

said  Mr. ,  "when  you  know  that  the  most 

cruel  method  of  torture  that  the  Japanese  use  is 
that  of  stretching  a  man,  woman  or  child  up  by 
the  thumbs  to  the  ceiling  with  his  toes  just  touch- 
ing the  floor." 

In  that  same  posture  of  torture  Koreans  rise 
to  their  toes  when  they  give  their  national  cry 
of  "Mansei"  for  all  the  world  like  an  American 
student  giving  his  college  yell. 

"It  means  life  and  death  to  give  that  cry  as 
you  know,"  said  this  intelligent  Korean. 

"Then  what  will  your  children  do  when  they 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FREEDOM  149 

grow  a  bit  older  and  go  out  on  the  streets  and 
yell  this  cry?"  I  asked  this  intelligent  father. 

"Be  killed,  no  doubt,  by  some  ignorant,  ruth- 
less Japanese  gendarme!"  he  said  with  finality. 

"Then  you  should  not  allow  them  to  teach  its 
tiny  lips  that  word !"  I  said. 

"I  would  rather  my  child  were  dead  than  to 
have  it  forget  that  cry !" 

In  this  same  family  one  Sunday  afternoon  a 
two-year-old  child  was  sleeping  on  a  mat.  The 
father  and  mother  were  reading  some  American 
papers  sent  them  by  their  old  college  friends  in 
the  United  States. 

Suddenly  that  little  two-year-old  sat  straight 
up  in  its  mat  bed,  lifted  its  arms  in  the  air  and 
shouted  "Mansei!  Mansei!  Mansei!"  three 
times  and  then  dropped  back  to  sleep  as  if  nothing 
had  happened. 

"How  did  you  feel?"  I  asked  my  Korean 
friend. 

"It  made  me  cry.  I  said  to  my  wife  'As  long 
as  Korea  has  babies  with  that  in  their  little  souls 
before  they  are  two  years  of  age,  Korea  will 
never  be  assimilated  by  Japan !'  " 

The  children  of  Korea  look  up  at  the  ceiling 
when  a  Japanese  teacher  enters  a  room.  They 
are  compelled  to  have  Japanese  teachers ;  even  in 
the  mission  schools.  The  children  refuse  to  do 
anything  for  a  Japanese  teacher. 


150  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

One  day  a  Japanese  teacher  thought  that  he 
would  break  that  mood  by  telling  a  funny  story. 
He  told  it  with  skill. 

But  not  a  child  laughed,  although  one  of  them 
said  to  her  father  that  night,  "It  was  hard  not 
to  laugh  for  it  was  a  very  funny  story!" 

"Who  tells  you  to  do  these  things;  you  stu- 
dents ?  Who  teaches  you  to  treat  your  Japanese 
teachers  in  that  manner?"  my  Korean  friend 
asked  his  six-year-old  child. 

"Nobody  tells  us ;  we  just  do  it  ourselves !  All 
the  children  hate  the  Japanese!"  he  replied  with 
the  wisdom  of  a  grown  man. 

All  over  Korea  we  saw  Korean  flags  cut  in 
walls,  carved  on  stones,  and  against  excavations 
where  the  sand  was  impressionable  to  little  fingers 
and  sticks.  I  took  many  photographs  of  these  un- 
conventional flags. 

There  is  one  instance  where  Korean  children 
went  on  a  strike  just  at  Commencement  time.  It 
meant  that  they  would  not  get  their  diplomas  but 
that  was  just  the  reason  they  did  it :  to  show  their 
contempt  for  Japanese  diplomas. 

Japanese  authorities  begged  them  to  return  to 
school. 

Finally  on  Commencement  Day  they  decided  to 
return. 

Something  had  happened. 

It  was  a  day  of  rejoicing  among  the  Japanese 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FREEDOM  151 

so  they  invited  a  lot  of  Japanese  officers  to  the 
Commencement  exercises. 

The  diplomas  were  given  to  each  boy;  the 
Japanese  teachers  bowing-,  and  smiling  in  their 
peculiar  way. 

Then  a  thirteen-year-old  Korean  boy  stepped 
to  the  front  to  make  the  address  of  thanks.  He 
made  a  beautiful  speech  of  thanks.  The  Japanese 
teachers  were  bowing  with  delight. 

But  the  boy's  speech  was  not  finished.  He 
paused  toward  the  end,  threw  back  his  blouse, 
lifted  his  proud  head  and  said,  "I  have  only  this 
one  thing  further  to  add." 

He  knew  the  seriousness  of  what  he  was  about 
to  do.  He  knew  that  it  would  possibly  mean 
death  to  him  and  his  relatives. 

"We  want  but  one  thing  of  you  Japanese. 
You  have  given  us  education,  and  you  have  given 
us  these  diplomas.  The  teachers  have  been  good 
to  us." 

Then  he  reached  in  his  blouse  and  pulled  out  a 
Korean  flag.  To  have  one  in  one's  possession  is 
a  crime  in  Korea  in  the  judgment  of  the  Japanese. 

Waving  it  above  his  little  head  he  cried,  "Give 
us  back  our  country !  May  Korea  live  a  thousand 
years!    Mansei!    Mansei!  Mansei!" 

At  that  signal  every  boy  in  that  school  jumped 
to  his  feet,  whipped  out  a  Korean  flag  and  fran- 
tically waved  it  in  the  air,  weeping  and  yelling  in 


162  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

wild  abandonment  to  the  faith  and  courage  of 
freedom  in  their  hearts! 

Then  they  tore  their  diplomas  up  before  the 
horrified  and  angered  Japanese  teachers. 

The  result  was  a  great  student  demonstration 
for  freedom ;  which  was  broken  up  by  a  force  of 
Japanese  gendarmes  with  drawn  swords ;  but  not 
before  the  shooting  of  many  boys  and  girls;  and 
not  before  over  four  hundred  girls  and  boys  were 
thrown  into  prison;  some  of  them  never  to 
emerge. 

In  the  chapter  on  "Flash-lights  of  Faith"  I 
told  the  story  of  the  seventy-five-year-old  Korean 
who  unflinchingly  faced  the  Japanese  gendarmes 
and  admitted  that  he  knew  the  source  from  which 
the  Independence  Movement  had  come ;  and  knew 
the  signers  of  the  Declaration  personally;  every 
one  of  them.  This  spirit  burns  in  the  heart  of, 
not  only  the  babies  of  Korea  but  also  in  the  souls 
of  the  white  haired  stately  patriarchs. 

One  old  man  who  was  dumb  had  his  own  way 
of  expressing  his  patriotism  when  "Mansei" 
was  yelled.  He  always  lifted  his  arms  above  his 
head.  He  could  not  speak  but  he  could  yell  with 
his  arms! 

This  placed  the  Japanese  authorities  in  the 
ridiculous  position  of  arresting  a  dumb  man  for 
yelling  "Mansei !" 

They  tortured  him,  for  months.    He  was  told 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FREEDOM  153 

that  he  would  be  released  if  he  would  promise 
never  to  lift  his  hands  above  his  head  again. 

He  could  not  speak  in  answer  to  their  demands. 
They  waited. 

Suddenly  he  caught  their  meaning.  They  were 
trying  to  frighten  him  from  giving  vent  to  his 
only  method  of  showing  his  patriotism. 

His  eyes  flashed  lire.  He  leapt  to  his  feet  with 
a  contemptuous  look  at  his  Japanese  captors. 

Then  like  flashng  piston  rods  of  steel  his 
arms  shot  into  the  air  above  his  head  three  times, 
shouting  in  their  mute  patriotism,  "Mansei! 
Mansei !    Mansei !" 

Nor  are  the  women  void  of  this  determination 
for  freedom.  It  beats  in  their  brave  hearts.  It 
is  a  great  flame  in  their  souls  as  well  as  in  the 
hearts  of  the  children  and  men  of  the  peninsula. 

"The  soul's  armor  is  never  set  well  to  heart 
unless  a  woman's  hand  has  braced  it,  and  it  is 
only  when  she  braces  it  loosely  that  the  honor 
of  manhood  fails!"  says  Robert  McKenna  in 
"The  Adventure  of  Life." 

If  that  is  a  true  definition  of  the  strength  of 
honor  and  the  desire  for  freedom  then  the  armor 
of  the  Korean  men  is  well  set. 
i  Sauci,  a  young  Korean  girl  was  under  arrest. 
She  was  just  a  school  girl  and  very  beautiful; 
with  dark  brown  eyes;  skin  the  color  of  a  walnut; 
and  a  form,  bred  of  the  grace  of  her  much  walk- 


154  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

ing  race.  She  had  walked  the  innumerable  trails 
of  her  native  land  from  babyhood  and  the 
rhythmic  swing  of  her  supple  body  would  have 
made  any  race,  save  that  of  her  conquerors, 
reverent  with  admiration. 

Sauci  was  too  much  for  her  Japanese  captors. 

The  Japanese  guard  struck  her  across  the 
mouth  with  a  whip. 

"That  doesn't  hurt  me.  That  is  the  grace  of 
God.  I  don't  hate  you  for  that  blow!"  said 
Sauci. 

This  angered  the  Jap  and  he  struck  her  again. 
This  stroke  left  a  streak  of  blood  across  her  face. 

Sauci  said  again,  ''That  doesn't  hurt  me.  That 
is  the  grace  of  God.  I  do  not  hate  you  for  strik- 
ing me !" 

The  gendarme  was  furious.  His  anger  was 
like  that  of  a  beast.  He  flew  at  her  blindly,  and 
struck,  struck,  struck  her  woman's  body  until  he 
was  exhausted. 

A  few  days  later  when  she  was  recovering  from 
that  brutal  beating,  a  high  official  of  the  Japanese 
gendarme  force  came  to  see  her. 

"Sauci,"  said  he  to  her,  recognizing  her  for  an 
intelligent  Korean  girl,  "why  do  not  the  Koreans 
like  us?" 

She  replied,  "I  had  a  dream  last  night  here  in 
the  cell.  That  will  tell  you  why.  In  my  dream 
a  visitor  came  to  our  home  and  stayed  for  dinner. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FREEDOM  155 

Then  instead  of  going  home,  the  visitor  stayed  all 
night.  Then  the  visitor  stayed  two  or  three  days. 
Then  two  or  three  months.  Then  two  or  three 
years.  We  were  surprised  but  were  too  polite  to 
say  anything. 

"But  finally  the  visitor  got  to  telling  us  how 
to  run  our  house." 

"How?"  asked  the  Japanese  official,  "Did  the 
visitor  tell  you  how  to  run  your  house  ?" 

"The  visitor,"  replied  Sauci,  "told  us  that  he 
didn't  like  our  wall  paper.  T  think  you  had  bet- 
ter get  new  paper!'  he  said.  T  do  not  like  your 
clothes  and  your  schools.  Wear  clothes  like  mine, 
and  have  schools  like  mine.  I  do  not  like  your 
way  of  talking.     Learn  my  language!' 

"So  finally  we  got  tired  of  our  visitor  and  said, 
'Please  go  home !  WE  do  not  like  you !  We  do 
not  want  you !    Please  go  home !'  " 

"But  what  has  that  to  do  with  us?"  said  the 
Japanese  official. 

"Why  in  a  few  days  the  visitor  in  my  dream 
went  home !"  said  Sauci  simply.  "And  in  a  few 
years  the  Japanese  will  go  back  home  also !"  Such 
is  the  courageous  spirit  of  the  Korean  women. 

One  day  an  American  friend  of  mine  had  gone 
to  the  Police  Station  with  a  young  Korean  girl 
who  had  been  summoned  to  appear  on  what  was 
called  a  "rearrest  charge." 


156  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

For  the  Japanese  feel  perfectly  free  to  rearrest 
a  person  even  after  that  person  has  been  proven 
innocent  of  a  charge.  A  Korean  may  be  re- 
arrested any  time.    He  can  never  feel  free. 

This  young,  educated  girl  had  been  subjected 
to  such  indignities  on  her  previous  arrest  as  I 
would  not  be  able  to  describe  in  this  book ;  so  she 
begged  the  woman  friend  to  go  with  her. 

As  she  entered  the  station  a  rough,  ignorant 
Japanese  officer  snarled  at  her  as  she  passed, 
"Hello!  Are  you  here  again?  I  thought  you 
were  still  in  prison !" 

When  he  had  gone  from  the  room  the  Korean 
girl  said  to  the  American  woman,  "That  man 
beat  me  for  ten  hours  one  day  the  last  time  I  was 
in  prison!" 

"Why  did  he  beat  you  ?"  asked  the  missionary. 

"He  was  trying  to  compel  me  to  give  him  the 
names  of  those  girls  who  belonged  to  the 
'Woman's  League'." 

"And  you  would  not  tell  him  their  names?" 

"I  would  rather  have  been  beaten  to  death  than 
give  him  their  names !" 

"Thank  God  for  your  courage!"  said  the  mis- 
sionary, for  she  had  seen  the  girl's  body  when  she 
had  gotten  out  of  Drison;  the  burns  of  cigarette 
stumps  all  over  her  beautiful  skin;  the  scars,  the 
whip  marks;  the  desecrations. 

When  I  was  told  this  story,  amid  the  tears  of 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FREEDOM  157 

the  narrator,  an  American  college  woman,  she 
concluded  with  fire  in  her  soul :  "I  have  never  seen 
such  courage  on  the  part  of  women  in  all  my  life! 
Even  mere  girls  and  children  have  it.  Most  of 
those  who  are  arrested  come  out  of  our  American 
Missionary  schools.  There  isn't  a  one  of  them, 
who  doesn't  have  in  her  soul  the  spirit  of  Joan 
of  Arc.  If  France  had  one  Joan  of  Arc,  Korea 
has  ten  thousand!" 

One  young  girl  of  whom  I  heard  was  kept  in 
prison  under  constant  torture  for  six  months. 
And  a  cruel  imprisonment  it  is.  I  visited  this 
prison  myself  one  winter  day  when  I  was  in 
Korea.  The  thermometer  was  at  zero;  the  snow 
covered  the  ground,,  and  there  wasn't  a  fire  in  a 
single  room  in  that  prison  save  where  the  Japa- 
nese guards  were  staying,  and  they  were  huddled 
around  a  roaring  coal  stove. 

And  this  is  the  show  prison  of  the  whole  Penin- 
sula. The  Japanese  take  visitors  through  it.  But 
to  an  American  even  it  is  fit  only  for  the  darkness 
of  the  Middle  Ages. 

In  its  limited  quarters  I  saw  ten  and  fifteen 
young  girls,  sweet  faced,  cultured,  educated 
school  girls,  huddled  together  in  narrow  rooms, 
without  a  single  chair,  so  closely  packed  that  they 
were  seated  on  the  floor  like  bees  in  a  hive. 

After  six  months  of  this  awful  life  the  girl  of 
whom  I  speak  was  about  to  be  released. 


158  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

The  guard  questioned  her.  "Now  what  are 
you  going  to  do  ?" 

Her  answer  came,  quick  as  a  shot,  although  she 
knew  that  it  would  send  her  back  to  the  hell 
from  which  she  was  about  to  be  released. 

"It  is  either  liberty  for  Korea  or  we  die!"  she 
said. 

And  in  three  minutes,  beaten,  and  dragged  on 
the  ground  by  the  hair  she  was  thrown  into  the 
cell  from  which  she  had  been  taken;  to  rot  and 
die  as  far  as  the  Japanese  were  concerned. 

Another  girl  who  had  been  kept  in  jail  135 
days  without  even  a  charge  having  been  preferred 
against  her  was  released.  Her  old  mother  came 
to  meet  her  and  while  in  Seoul  the  mother  at- 
tended an  Independence  Meeting  for  women. 
The  whole  crowd  of  women  then  went  to  the 
Police  Station  and  shouted  "Mansei" ! 

The  mother  was  arrested  and  cruelly  beaten  in 
spite  of  her  seventy-five  years  of  age. 

When  they  were  through  beating  her  they  said, 
"Now  will  you  refrain  from  yelling,  'Mansei !'  " 

"Never!"  said  this  old  woman. 

Then  they  took  a  bar  of  iron  and  beat  her  over 
the  legs  until  she  dropped. 

"Now  will  you  refrain  from  yelling  'Mansei?'  " 

The  old  woman  was  weak,  but  in  a  low,  painful 
whisper  said,  "The  next  time  the  women  come  to 
yell,  if  I  am  able  to  walk  I  will  be  with  them!" 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FREEDOM  159 

Another  old  woman  was  brought  to  prison  for 
yelling  "Mansei!"  When  they  asked  her  why 
she  yelled  "Mansei"  she  answered  in  a  sentence 
that  sums  up  the  entire  spirit  that  is  in  the  woman- 
heart  of  Korea. 

"I  have  only  one  word  in  my  head  and  that  is 
'Mansei!'" 

I  personally,  one  day  in  Korea,  saw  the  Japa- 
nese gendarmes  come  for  a  Korean  girl.  She  was 
one  of  the  most  popular  girls  in  the  American 
Methodist  Missionary  School. 

It  was  the  common  custom  for  Japanese  offi- 
cials to  come  and  take  Korean  girls  out  of  these 
schools,  without  warning,  without  warrants,  with- 
out words,  and  carry  them  off  to  prison. 

Often  the  girl  was  not  even  permitted  to  say 
good-by  to  her  American  teachers  or  to  write  a 
word  to  her  parents. 

"They  are  not  even  permitted  to  supply  them- 
selves with  toilet  articles,,"  said  the  matron  to  me 
that  day. 

On  this  day,  six  big,  brutal,  ugly  faced,  animal- 
like Japanese  officers  came  for  this  beautiful  girl. 

The  missionary  women  wept  as  the  girl  was 
dragged  away.    The  girl  waved  good-by. 

It  was  a  sight  never  to  be  forgotten;  one  of 
those  Flash-lights  of  Freedom,  which  burned  its 
way  into  my  soul  with  the  hot  acid  of  indigna- 
tion.    This  injustice  and  indecency  in  the  treat- 


160  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

ment  of  a  pure  girl  made  my  blood  run  hot  in  my 
veins. 

The  look  on  her  face  I  shall  never  forget.  It 
was  such  a  look  as  the  martyrs  of  old  must  have 
had  when  they  died  for  their  faith. 

"Good-by!  Good-by!  Give  my  love  to  Mary 
and  Elizabeth!"  she  cried  to  the  missionary 
woman  standing  by,  helpless  to  assist  her.  These 
two  names  were  children  of  the  missionary  home; 
children  whom  this  Korean  girl  had  learned  to 
love  as  she  lived  in  this  American  home. 

"And  the  awful  thing  about  it  all,  is,"  said  the 
missionary  to  me  as  they  took  the  girl  away, 
"that,  as  pure  as  that  girl  is,  as  pure  as  a  flower, 
she  will  be  taken  to  a  prison  fifty  miles  from 
Seoul,  kept  there  under  torture  for  six  months, 
and  she  will  not  be  allowed  to  see  her  friends. 
They  will  not  even  allow  us  to  visit  her.  She  may 
be  undressed  and  spat  upon  by  men  who  are  lower 
than  animals.  She  may  suffer  even  worse  than 
that " 

Then  the  American  missionary  woman  fainted. 

That  flash-light  may  be  duplicated  a  hundred 
times  in  Korea. 

"The  woman  of  Korea  suffers  as  much  as  the 
man.  But  thank  God  they  do  not  flinch !"  said  an 
American  missionary. 

The  Japanese  Gendarmes  have  forbidden  the 
singing  of  several  of  the  great  church  hymns  in 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FREEDOM  161 

mission  churches  because  they  insist  that  these 
are  hymns  of  Freedom ;  that  they  foment  what  the 
Japanese  call  "Dangerous  Ideas."  Japanese  spies 
have  reported  certain  Seoul  Methodist  churches 
for  singing  hymns  that,  to  their  way  of  thinking, 
were  directed  against  the  Japanese  Government. 
This  particular  illustration  of  the  peculiar  work- 
ings of  the  Japanese  mind  might  have  been  in- 
cluded in  the  chapter  on  Flash-lights  of  Fun; 
were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  the  Japanese  officers 
themselves  call  these  old  church  hymns  "Hymns 
of  Freedom." 

The  Japanese  are  just  as  much  afraid  of  these 
"Dangerous  Thoughts"  in  Japan  as  they  are  in 
Korea.  A  good  illustration  of  this  fear  is  the 
fact  that  a  certain  picture  corporation  of  America 
called  "The  Liberty  Film  Company"  sent  several 
films  to  Japan.  The  Government  would  not  allow 
these  pictures  to  be  shown  until  that  word  "Lib- 
erty" was  cut  from  the  film. 

Certain  Japanese  spies  reported  a  Mission 
church  in  Seoul  for  singing  "Rock  of  Ages." 

"But  why  may  we  not  sing  'Rock  of  Ages'?" 
asked  the  American  preacher  in  charge. 

"Because  it  starts  ofif  with  'Mansei !'  "  replied 
the  officer. 

He  interpreted  the  thought  of  "Rock  of  Ages" 
to  be  a  direct  imputation  that  the  Japanese  Gov- 
ernment was  not  able  to  take  care  of  the  Koreans 


162  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

and  that  they  were  flying  to  some  other  protect- 
ing power. 

"It  would  be  funny  if  it  were  not  so  serious  V 
said  a  missionary  to  me  one  day  in  Seoul. 

Later  they  stopped  the  churches  from  singing 
"Nearer  My  God  to  Thee,"  because  there  seemed 
to  be  an  implication  in  that,  that  those  who  sang 
that  hymn,  were  swearing  allegiance  to  a  higher 
power  than  that  of  Japan. 

"Ridiculous!  Absolutely  ridiculous!"  I  said 
in  disgust. 

"Yes,  ridiculous,  but  serious,"  replied  the  mis- 
sionary, "when  you  have  to  live  with  it  year  in 
and  year  out." 

"Crown  Him  Lord  of  All,"  insisted  the  Jap- 
anese spies,  when  they  seriously  reported  a  certain 
church  for  singing  that  old  hymn  was  "Danger- 
ous Thought."  It  seemed  to  this  ignorant  spy 
that  "Crowning  Him"  was  putting  some  other 
power  before  that  of  the  Japanese  Government. 

"All  Hail  the  Power  of  Jesus'  Name"  has  been 
put  under  the  ban  and  when  a  certain  missionary 
woman  was  asked  to  sing  at  the  Korean  Y.M.C.A. 
and  announced  that  she  was  going  to  sing  "Oh, 
Rest  in  the  Lord"  she  was  advised  not  to  sing  it 
because  it  was  considered  by  the  gendarmes  to 
be  "Dangerous  Thought"  and  to  suggest  "Lib- 
erty," "Freedom"  and  such  dangerous  words  and 
ideas. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FREEDOM  163 

When  one  Protestant  preacher  prayed  about 
"Casting  Out  Devils"  he  was  reported  by  Jap- 
anese spies,  who  insisted  that  he  was  talking- 
about  Japanese  in  Korea  and  meant  that  these 
should  be  cast  out  of  the  land. 

"  'It  is  to  laugh !'  as  the  French  say !"  I  re- 
sponded to  this  story. 

"No!  It  is  to  weep!"  said  the  American  mis- 
.sionary. 

When  Dr.  Frank  W.  Schoefield  spoke  against 
Prostitution  the  Japanese  papers  declared  that  he 
had  made  a  virulent  attack  on  the  Government. 

One  Korean  preacher  who  preached  on  a  theme 
from  Luke  4:18,  which  reads  "Setting  the  cap- 
tives free,"  was  arrested  and  kept  in  jail  for  four 
days. 

"It  is  very  foolish  to  yell  'Mansei'  when  you 
know  you  will  be  killed,"  I  said  to  a  Korean 
preacher.  I  wanted  to  see  how  he  would  take  that 
suggestion. 

"We  Koreans  would  rather  be  under  the 
ground  than  on  top  of  it  if  we  do  not  get  our  lib- 
erty!" he  said  with  a  thrill  in  his  quiet  voice. 

One  day  a  Korean  preacher  was  arrested  for 
preaching  on  the  theme,  "Seek  ye  first  the  King- 
dom of  God  and  all  these  things  shall  be  added 
unto  you,"  because  that  was,  without  doubt,  dis- 
loyal to  Japan  and  meant  rebellion. 

Another  day  a  speaker  in  the  Y.M.C.A.  said^ 


164  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

"Arise  and  let  us  build  for  the  new  age!"  He 
was  asked  to  report  to  Police  Headquarters  just 
what  he  meant  by  that  kind  of  "Dangerous"  talk 
about  Freedom. 


CHAPTER   IX 

FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAILURE 

THREE  great  Flash-lights  of  Failure  stand 
out  in  the  Far  East  and  the  Oriental  world 
to-day;  one  being  the  failure  of  a  race  to  survive, 
another  being  the  failure  of  the  world  to  under- 
stand that  Shantung  is  the  Holy  Land  and  not 
the  appendix  of  China;  this  sacred  shrine  of  the 
Chinese  which  has  so  carelessly  and  listlessly  been 
given  over  to  Japan ;  and  the  third  being  Japan's 
failure  to  understand  that  methods  of  barbarism 
from  the  Dark  Ages  will  not  work  in  a  modern 
civilization. 

"Why  are  they  making  all  this  fuss  over  Shan- 
tung?" an  acquaintance  of  mine  said  to  me  just 
before  I  left  America.  "Isn't  it  just  a  sort  of 
an  appendix  of  China,  after  all?  If  I  were  the 
Chinese,  I'd  forget  Shantung  and  go  on  to  cen- 
tralize and  develop  what  I  had." 

That  was  glibly  said,  but  the  fact  which  the 
statement  leaves  out  of  reckoning  is  that  Shan- 
tung is  the  very  heart  and  soul  of  China  instead 
of  being  the  appendix. 

The  average  American  has  so  often  thought  of 

165 


166  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

China  just  as  China ;  a  great,  big,,  indefinite,  far- 
off  nation  of  four  hundred  million  people,  always 
stated  in  round  numbers,  that  Shantung  doesn't 
mean  much  to  us.  Yes,  but  it  means  much  to 
China. 

It  means  about  the  same  as  if  some  nation 
should  come  along  and  take  New  England  from 
us;  New  England,,  the  seat  of  all  our  most  sacred 
history,  the  beginning  of  our  national  life,  the 
oldest  of  our  traditions,  the  burial-place  of  our 
early  founders,  the  seat  of  our  religious  genesis. 
I  don't  believe  that  many  folks  in  New  England 
would  desire  to  be  called  an  appendix  of  the 
United  States. 

So  one  of  the  things  that  I  was  determined  to 
do  when  I  went  to  China  was  to  go  from  one  end 
of  Shantung  to  the  other,  talking  with  coolies,, 
officials,  old  men  and  young  men,  students,  and 
those  who  can  neither  read  nor  write;  mission- 
aries and  soldiers;  natives  and  foreigners;  to 
see  just  what  importance  Shantung  is  to  China 
as  a  whole. 

The  first  thing  I  discovered  was  that  it  has 
about  forty  million  people  living  within  the  limits 
of  the  peninsula,  close  to  half  the  population  of 
the  United  States.  Does  that  sound  as  if  it  might 
be  China's  appendix?  You  wouldn't  think  so 
if  you  saw  the  cities,  roads  and  fields  of  this  great 
stretch  of  land  literally  swarming  with  human 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAILURE  167 

beings,  and  every  last  one  of  them  as  busy  as 
ants. 

I  rode  one  whole  day  across  the  peninsula.  I 
happened  to  be  traveling  with  a  man  from  Kan- 
sas. He  was  a  man  interested  in  farming  and 
wheat-growing.  For  hundreds  of  miles  we  had 
been  passing  through  land  that  was  absolutely 
level  and  every  inch  of  it  cultivated.  I  had  been 
saying  to  myself  over  and  over  again,  "Why,  it's 
exactly  like  our  Middle  West  Country." 

Then  much  to  my  astonishment  this  Kansas 
ma^  turned  to  me,  and  said,  "Did  it  ever  occur  to 
you  that  these  fields  of  Shantung  look  just  like 
Kansas?" 

"Yes,  it  has  just  occurred  to  me  this  minute,"  I 
responded. 

Then  the  wife  of  the  Kansas  man  said,  "I  have 
been  shutting  my  eyes  and  trying  to  imagine  that 
I  was  in  Kansas,  it's  so  much  like  home." 

"And  say,  man,  but  a  tractor  on  those  fields 
would  work  wonders,"  added  a  portion  of  Wil- 
liam Allen  White's  reading  constituency. 

And  that  is  exactly  how  Shantung  strikes  an 
American  when  he  has  ridden  all  day  through 
its  great  stretches  of  level  fields.  He  can  easily 
imagine  himself  riding  through  Kansas  for  a  day. 

My  first  visit  to  Shantung  was  at  Tsingtao,  the 
headquarters  of  the  German  concession  and  now 
of  the  Japanese  concession.    I  spent  a  day  there. 


168  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

and  took  photographs  of  the  wharves  and  town. 
On  the  wharves  were  still  standing-  hundreds  of 
boxes  marked  with  German  names  and  the 
inevitable  phrase  "Made  in  Germany."  Those 
boxes  were  mute  reminders  of  the  evacuation  of 
one  nation  from  a  foreign  soil.  But  standing  side 
by  side  with  these  boxes  were  also  other  hun- 
dreds, already  being  shot  into  Shantung-  in  a 
steady  stream ;  and  these  boxes  have  a  new  trade- 
mark printed  in  every  case  in  English  and  Japa- 
nese, "Made  in  Japan." 

I  spent  several  days  in  Tsinanfu  and  Tientsin, 
two  great  inland  cities,  and  more  than  a  week  in 
cruising  about  through  Shantung's  little  towns, 
its  villages  and  its  sacred  spots. 

I  heard  of  its  mines  and  of  its  physical  wealth. 
But  the  world  already  knows  of  that.  The  world 
already  knows  that  this  physical  wealth  of  mines 
and  raw  material  was  what  made  it  look  good  to 
Germany  and  Japan.  But  the  thing  that  im- 
pressed me  was  its  spiritual  wealth. 

The  thing  that  makes  Shantung  attractive  to 
the  Japanese,  of  course,  is  not  the  spiritual  wealth, 
as  the  world  well  knows.  Perhaps  the  Japanese 
have  never  considered  the  latter  any  more  than 
the  Germans  did ;  but  the  one  thing  that  makes  it 
most  sacred  to  the  Chinese,  who  are,  after  all,  a 
race  of  idealists,  is  its  treasuries  of  spiritual 
memories  and  shrines. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAILURE  169 

In  the  first  place,  many  Chinese  will  tell  you 
that  it  is  the  "cradle  of  the  Chinese  race."  I  am 
not  sure  that  histories  will  confirm  this  state- 
ment. And  I  am  also  not  sure  that  that  makes  any 
difference  as  long  as  the  idea  is  buried  in  the 
heart  of  the  Chinese  people.  A  tradition  often 
means  as  much  to  a  race  as  a  fact.  And  the  tra- 
dition certainly  is  well  established  that  Shantung 
is  the  birthplace  of  all  Chinese  history.  So  that 
is  one  of  the  deeply  rooted  spiritual  facts  that 
makes  Shantung  sacred  to  the  Chinese. 

The  second  spiritual  gold  mine  is  that  one  of 
its  cities,  Chufu,  is  the  birthplace  and  the  last 
resting-place  of  the  sage  Confucius.  And  China 
is  literally  impregnated  with  Confusian  phi- 
losophy and  Confucian  sayings. 

I  took  a  trip  to  this  shrine  in  order  to  catch 
some  of  the  spiritual  atmosphere  of  the  Shantung 
loss.  The  trip  made  it  necessary  to  tramp  about 
fifteen  miles  coming  and  going  through  as  dusty 
a  desert  as  I  ever  saw.,  but  that  was  a  trifle  com- 
pared with  the  thrill  that  I  had  as  I  stood  at  last 
before  the  little  mound  about  as  high  as  a  Cali- 
fornia bungalow;  the  mound  that  held  the  dust 
of  this  great  Chinese  sage.  During  the  war  I 
stood  before  the  grave  of  Napoleon  in  France. 
Before  I  went  to  France  I  visited  Grant's  tomb. 
I  have  also  stood  many  times  beside  a  little  mound 
in  West  Virginia,  the  resting-place  of  my  mother. 


170  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

and  I  think  that  I  know  something  of  the  sacred- 
ness  of  such  experiences  to  a  human  heart,  but 
somehow  the  thrill  that  came  to  me  on  that  Janu- 
ary morning,  warm  with  sunlight,  spicy  with  win- 
ter cold,  produced  a  feeling  too  deep  for  mere 
printed  words  to  convey. 

"If  we  feel  as  we  do  standing  here  on  this 
sacred  spot,  think  of  how  the  Chinese  feel  toward 
their  own  sage!"  said  an  old  missionary  of  the 
party. 

"Yes,"  added  another,  "and  remember  that  the 
Chinese  revere  their  ancestors  and  their  sages 
and  their  shrines  more  than  we  ever  dream  of 
doing.  Any  grave  is  a  sacred  spot  to  them,  so 
much  so  that  railroads  have  to  run  their  trunk 
lines  for  miles  in  a  detour  to  avoid  graves.  These 
Chinese  are  idealists  of  the  first  water.  They 
live  in  the  past,  and  they  dream  of  the  future." 

"When  you  get  these  facts  into  your  American 
heads,"  added  a  third  member  of  the  party,  not 
without  some  bitterness,  "then  you  will  begin  to 
know  that  the  Chinese  do  not  estimate  the  loss  of 
Shantung  in  terms  of  mineral  wealth." 

At  Chufu,  the  resting-place  of  Confucius,,  there 
is  also  the  spot  of  his  birth,  and  this  too  is  most 
sacred  to  the  Chinese  nation.  We  visited  both 
places.  I  think  that  I  never  before  quite  realized 
just  what  the  loss  of  Shantung  meant  to  these 
Chinese  until  that  day,  unless  it  was  the  next  day, 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAILURE  171 

when  we  climbed  the  sacred  mountain  Taishan, 
which  is  also  in  Shantung. 

"It  is  the  oldest  worshiping-place  in  the 
world,"  said  the  historian  of  the  party.  "There  is 
no  other  spot  on  earth  where  continuous  worship 
has  gone  on  so  long.  Here  for  more  than  twenty- 
centuries  before  Christ  was  born  men  and  women 
were  worshiping.  Emperors  from  the  oldest 
history  of  China  down  to  the  present  time  have 
all  visited  this  mountain  to  worship.  Confucius 
himself  climbed  the  more  than  six  thousand  steps 
to  worship  here." 

"Yes,"  said  another  missionary  historian,  "and 
this  mountain  is  referred  to  twelve  separate  times 
in  the  Chinese  classics,  and  great  pilgrimages 
were  made  here  as  long  ago  as  two  centuries  be- 
fore Christ." 

That  day  we  climbed  the  mountain  up  more 
than  six  thousand  stone  steps,  which  are  in  perfect 
condition  and  which  were  engineered  thousands 
of  years  ago  by  early  worshipers. 

The  only  climb  with  which  I  can  compare  that 
of  Mt.  Taishan  is  that  of  Mt.  Tamalpais  over- 
looking San  Francisco.  The  climb  is  about  equal 
to  that.  The  mountain  itself  is  about  a  mile  in 
height,  and  the  climb  is  a  hard  one  to  those  who 
are  unaccustomed  to  mountain-climbing,  and  yet 
thousands  upon  thousands  climb  it  every  year 
after  pilgrimages  from  all  over  China. 


172  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

We  climbed  to  the  top  of  Taishan,  and  saw  the 
"No-Character  Stone"  erected  by  Emperor  Chin, 
he  who  tried  to  drive  learning  out  of  China  hun- 
dreds of  years  ago.  We  saw  the  spot  on  which 
Confucius  stood,  and  glimpsed  the  Pacific  Ocean,, 
ninety  miles  away,  on  a  clear  day.  It  was  a  hard 
climb;  but,  when  one  stood  on  the  top  of  this,  the 
most  sacred  mountain  of  all  China,  he  began  to 
understand  the  spiritual  loss  that  is  China's  when 
her  worshiping-place  is  in  the  hands  of  aliens. 

"And  don't  forget  that  Mencius,  the  first  dis- 
ciple of  Confucius,,  was  born  and  died  in  Shan- 
tung, too,  when  you  are  taking  census  of  the 
spiritual  values  of  Shantung  to  the  Chinese,"  was 
a  word  of  caution  from  the  old  missionary  who 
was  checking  up  on  my  facts  for  me.  He  had 
been  laboring  in  China  for  a  quarter  of  a  century. 

"And  don't  forget  that  the  Boxer  uprising  orig- 
inated in  Shantung,  and  don't  forget  that  it  is 
called,  and  has  been  for  centuries,  'the  Sacred 
Province'  by  the  Chinese.  It  is  their  'Holy 
Land.'  And  don't  forget  that,  from  Shantung, 
coolies  went  to  South  Africa  in  the  early  part 
of  this  century  and  that  the  Chinese  from  Shan- 
tung were  the  first  to  get  in  touch  with  the  west- 
ern world.  And  don't  forget  that  nine-tenths  of 
the  coolies  who  went  to  help  in  the  war  in  France 
were  from  Shantung!"  he  added  with  emphasis. 
This  was  a  thing  that  I  well  knew,  for  I  had,  only 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAILURE  173 

a  few  weeks  before  this,  seen  two  thousand  coolies 
unloaded  from  the  Empress  of  Asia  at  Tsingtao. 

No,  Shantung  is  not  an  appendix  of  China,  as 
many  Americans  suppose ;  but  it  is  the  very  heart 
and  soul  of  China.  It  is  China's  "Holy  Land." 
It  is  the  "Cradle  of  China."  It  is  the  "Sacred 
Province  of  China."  It  is  the  shrine  of  her  great- 
est sage.  It  is  the  home  of  "the  oldest  worship- 
ing-place  on  earth."  It  is  because  of  its  spir- 
itual values  that  China  is  unhappy  about  the  loss 
of  Shantung,  and  not  because  of  its  wealth  of 
material  things. 

The  failure  of  the  world  to  understand  what 
Shantung  means  to  China  and  the  failure  of 
Japan  to  understand  that  they  cannot  for  many 
years  stand  out  against  the  indignation  of  the 
entire  world  in  continuing  to  keep  Shantung  is 
one  of  the  great  spiritual  failures  of  the  Far  East 
in  our  century. 

The  second  great  failure  is  the  tragic  failure  of 
an  entire  race  of  people;  that  of  the  Ainu  Indians 
of  Japan. 

It  is  a  pathetic  thing  to  see  a  human  race  dying 
out;  coming  to  "The  End  of  the  Trail."  But  I 
was  determined  to  see  them,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  people  told  me  I  would  have  to  travel  from 
one  end  of  Japan  to  the  other ;  and  then  cross  four 
hours  of  sea  before  I  got  to  Hokkaido,  the  most 


174  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

northern  island  of  Japan,  where  lived  the  tattered 
remnants  of  this  once  noble  race. 

The  name  of  this  dying  race  is  pronounced  as 
if  it  were  spelled  I-new  with  a  long  L 

These  are  the  people  who  inhabited  Japan  be- 
fore the  present  Japanese  entered  the  land  from 
Korea  and  drove  them,  inch  by  inch,  back  and 
north  and  west  across  Japan.  It  was  a  stubborn 
fight,  and  it  has  lasted  many  centuries ;  but  to-day 
they  have  been  driven  up  on  the  island  of  Hok- 
kaido, that  northern  frontier  of  Japan  where  the 
overflow  of  Japan  is  pouring  at  the  rate  of  four 
thousand  a  year,  making  two  million  to  date  and 
only  about  fifty  thousand  of  them  Ainus. 

"Are  they  like  our  American  Indians  in  looks, 
since  their  history  is  so  much  like  them  ?"  I  asked 
my  missionary  friend. 

"Wait  until  you  see  them,  and  decide  for  your- 
self. I  know  very  little  about  American  Indians." 

So  one  morning  at  three  o'clock,  after  travel- 
ing for  two  days  and  nights  from  one  end  of 
Japan  to  the  other,  and  then  crossing  a  strait  be- 
tween the  Japan  Sea  and  the  Pacific  Ocean  to  the 
island,  we  climbed  from  our  train,  and  landed 
in  a  little  country  railroad  station. 

It  was  blowing  a  blizzard,  and  the  snow 
crashed  into  our  faces  with  stinging,  whip-like 
snaps. 

I  was  appointed  stoker  for  the  small  stove  in 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAILURE  175 

the  station  while  the  rest  of  the  party  tried  to 
sleep  on  the  benches  arranged  in  a  circle,  huddled 
as  close  as  they  could  get  to  the  stove. 

We  were  the  first  party  of  foreigners  of  this 
size  that  had  ever  honored  the  village  with  a 
visit.  And  in  addition  to  that  we  had  come  at 
an  unearthly  hour. 

Who  but  a  group  of  insane  foreigners  would 
drop  into  a  town  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
with  a  blizzard  blowing?  Either  we  were  insane, 
or  we  had  some  sinister  motives.  Perhaps  we 
were  making  maps  of  the  seacoast. 

And  before  daylight  half  of  the  town  was  peek- 
ing in  through  the  windows  at  us.  Then  the 
policemen  came.  They  were  Japanese  policemen, 
and  did  not  take  any  chances  on  us.  Even  after 
our  interpreter  had  told  them  that  we  were  a 
group  of  scientists  who  had  come  to  visit  the 
Ainus  they  still  followed  us  around  most  of  the 
morning,  keeping  polite  track  of  our  movements. 

About  five  o'clock  that  morning,  as  I  was  try- 
ing to  catch  a  cat-nap,  the  newsboys  of  the  village 
came  to  get  the  morning  papers  which  had  come 
in  on  the  train  on  which  we  had  arrived.  They 
unbundled  the  papers  in  the  cold  station;  their 
breath  forming  clouds  of  vapor;  laughing  and 
joking  as  they  unrolled,  folded  and  counted  the 
papers;  and  arranged  their  routes  for  morning 
delivery. 


176  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

It  took  me  back  to  boyhood  days  down  in  West 
Virginia.  I  did  the  same  thing  as  these  Japanese 
boys  were  doing.  I,  too,  arose  before  daylight, 
cHmbed  out  of  bed,  and  went  whistling  through 
the  dark  streets  to  the  station  where  the  early 
morning  trains  dumped  off  the  papers  from  the 
city.  I,  too,  along  with  several  other  Ameri- 
can boys  of  a  winter  morning,  breathed  clouds 
of  vapor  into  the  air,  stamped  my  feet  to  keep 
them  warm,  and  whipped  my  hands  against  my 
sides.  I,  too,  unwrapped  the  big  bundles  of 
papers,  and  did  it  in  the  same  way  in  which  these 
Japanese  boys  did,,  by  smashing  the  tightly  bound 
wrappers  on  the  floor  until  they  burst.  I,  too, 
counted,  folded,  put  in  inserts,  arranged  my 
paper-route  and  darted  out  into  the  frosty  air 
with  the  snow  crunching  under  my  feet.  How 
universal  some  things  are.  The  only  difference 
was  that  these  boys  were  dressed  in  a  sort  of 
buccaneer  uniform.  They  had  on  high  leather 
boots,,  and  belts  around  their  coats  that  made  them 
look  as  if  they  had  stepped  out  of  a  Richard 
Harding  Davis  novel.  But  otherwise  they  went 
through  the  same  processes  as  an  American  boy 
in  a  small  town. 

When  the  vanguard  of  villagers  had  come  to 
inspect  us,  they  at  first  tried  to  talk  Russian  to 
us.    They  had  never  seen  any  other  kind  of  for- 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAILURE  177 

eigners.  They  had  never  seen  Americans  in  this 
far-off  island. 

When  daylight  came,  we  started  out  on  a  long 
tramp  to  the  Ainu  villages.  They  were  a  mile  or 
two  away  on  the  ocean.  These  people  always 
build  near  the  sea  if  they  can.  Fishing  is  one  of 
their  main  sources  of  food. 

We  spent  the  day  in  their  huts.  They  live  like 
animals.  A  big,  square  hut  covered  with  rice 
straw  and  thatch,  with  a  fence  of  the  same  kind 
of  straw  running  around  the  house,  forms  the 
residence.  The  only  fire  is  in  the  middle  of  the 
only  room,,  and  this  consists  of  a  pile  of  wood 
burning  on  a  flat  stone  or  piece  of  metal  in  the 
center.  There  is  no  chimney  in  the  roof,  and 
not  even  an  opening  such  as  the  American  Indians 
had  in  the  tops  of  their  tepees.  I  do  not  know 
how  they  live.  The  smoke  finds  its  way  gradu- 
ally through  cracks  in  the  walls  and  roofs.  One 
can  hardly  find  a  single  Ainu  whose  eyes  are  not 
ruined.    The  smoke  has  done  this  damage. 

The  only  opening  in  their  houses  besides  the 
door  is  one  north  window,  and  it  is  never  closed. 
In  fact,  there  is  no  window.  It  is  only  an  opening. 

''Why  is  that?  I'd  think  they  would  freeze  on 
a  day  like  this,"  I  said  to  the  guide. 

"They  keep  it  that  way  all  winter,  and  it  gets 
a  good  deal  below  zero  here,"  he  said. 


178  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

"But  why  do  they  do  it?"  old  Shylock  de- 
manded. 

"It  is  part  of  their  religion.  They  believe  that 
the  god  comes  in  that  window.  They  want  it  open, 
so  that  he  can  come  in  whenever  he  wishes.  It 
offends  them  greatly  when  you  stick  your  head 
through  that  window." 

Pat  tried  it  just  to  see  what  would  happen, 
just  like  a  man  who  looks  into  the  barrel  of  a 
gun,  or  a  man  who  takes  a  watch  apart,  or  wants 
to  hit  a  "dud"  with  a  hammer  just  to  see  whether 
it  is  a  dud.  The  result  was  bad.  There  was  a 
sudden  series  of  outlandish  yells  from  the  house- 
hold. I  think  that  every  man,  woman  and  child,, 
including  the  dogs,  of  which  there  were  many, 
started  at  once.  I  wonder  now  how  Pat  escaped 
alive,  and  only  under  the  assumption  that  "the 
good  die  young"  can  I  explain  his  escape. 

I  wanted  some  arrows  to  take  to  America  as 
souvenirs;  and,  when  an  old  Indian  pulled  out  a 
lot  of  metal  arrows  on  long  bows  with  which  he 
had  killed  more  than  a  hundred  bears,,  I  was  not 
satisfied.  They  were  not  the  kind  of  arrows  I 
yvanted. 

"What  kind  are  you  looking  for  ?"  I  was  asked. 

"Flint  arrow-heads,"  I  responded. 

"Why,  man,  these  Indians  have  known  the  use 
of  metals  for  five  hundred  years.     The  stone 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAILURE  179 

age  with  them  is  half  a  thousand  years  in  the 
past." 

"Have  they  a  history  ?"  I  wanted  to  know. 
■  My  interpreter,  who  has  much  knowledge  of 
these  things,  having  worked  among  them  for 
years,  said,  "All  of  the  Japanese  mythology  is 
centered  about  the  battles  that  took  place  when 
these  Indians  were  driven  out  of  Japan  proper 
step  by  step." 

I  was  surprised  to  find  that  they  were  white 
people  compared  with  the  Japanese  who  were 
their  conquerors.  There  are  other  marked  dif- 
ferences. The  Ainus  are  broad  between  the  eyes 
instead  of  narrow  as  are  the  Japanese.  They  are 
rather  square-headed  like  Americans  as  com- 
pared with  the  oval  of  the  Japanese  face.  They 
do  not  have  markedly  slant  eyes,  and  they  are 
white-skinned.  They  might  feel  at  home  in  any 
place  in  America.  I  have  seen  many  old  men  at 
home  who  look  like  them,  old  men  with  beards. 
This  came  as  a  distinct  surprise  to  me. 

At  each  house,  just  in  front  of  the  ever-open 
window  of  which  I  have  spoken,  there  is  a  little 
crude  shrine.  It  is  more  like  a  small  fence  than 
anything  that  I  know,  a  most  crude  affair  made 
of  broken  bamboo  poles.  Flowers  and  vines  are 
planted  here  to  beautify  this  shrine,,  and  every 
pole  has  a  bear-skull  on  it.    The  more  bear-skulls 


180  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

you  have,,  the  safer  you  are  and  the  more  religious 
you  have  become. 

Pat  was  sacrilegious  enough  to  steal  a  skull 
in  order  to  get  the  teeth,  which  he  wanted  as 
souvenirs.  I  was  chagrined  and  shocked  at  Pat's 
lack  of  religious  propriety.  However,  I  was  en- 
ticed into  accepting  one  of  the  teeth  after  Pat 
had  knocked  them  out  and  stolen  them. 

*'How  do  they  worship  bears  and  kill  them  at 
the  same  time?"  I  queried  the  guide. 

"That's  a  part  of  the  worship.  They  kill  the 
bear,  slowly  singing  and  chanting  as  they  kill 
him.  They  think  that  the  spirit  of  every  bear 
that  they  kill  comes  into  their  own  souls.  That's 
why  they  kill  so  many.  That  seventy-year-old 
rascal  over  there  has  killed  a  hundred.  He  is  a 
great  man  in  his  tribe." 

"If  I  was  a  bear,"  commented  Pat,,  "I'd  rather 
they  wouldn't  worship  me.  That's  a  funny  way 
to  show  reverence  to  a  god.  I'd  rather  be  their 
devil  and  live  than  be  their  god  and  die."  Pat 
is  sometimes  loquacious.  "They  dance  about  the 
poor  old  bear  as  they  kill  him.  One  fellow  will 
hurl  an  arrow  into  his  side,  and  then  cry  out,  'O 
spirit  of  the  great  bear-god,  come  enter  into  me, 
and  make  me  strong  and  brave  like  you !  Come, 
take  up  thine  abode  in  my  house!  Come,  be  a 
part  of  me!  Let  thy  strength  and  thy  courage 
be  my  strength  and  my  courage !'  " 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAILURE  181 

"Then,"  said  the  interpreter,  "he  hurls  another 
arrow  into  him." 

"And  what  is  Mr.  Bear  doing  all  that  time?" 

"Mr.  Bear  is  helpless.  He  is  captured  first 
in  a  trap,  and  then  kept  and  fattened  for  the 
killing.  He  is  tied  to  a  tree  during  the  killing 
ceremony." 

"All  I  gotta  say  is  that  they're  darned  poor 
sports,"  said  Flintlock  with  indignation.  "They're 
poor  sports  not  to  give  Mr.  Bear  a  fighting 
chance." 

And  old  Flintlock  has  voiced  the  sentiments  of 
the  entire  party. 

Everybody  that  was  at  the  Panama  Pacific 
International  Exposition  will  remember  the  mag- 
nificent statue  of  an  Indian  there.  This  Indian 
was  riding  a  horse,,  and  both  were  worn  out  and 
drooping.  A  spear  which  dragged  on  the  ground 
in  front  of  the  pony  was  further  evidence  of  the 
weariness  of  the  horse  and  rider.  The  title  of 
this  Fraser  bronze  was  "The  End  of  the  Trail," 
and  it  was  intended  to  tell  the  story  of  a  vanishing 
race,  the  American  Indians.  But  even  more  could 
that  picture  tell  the  story  of  the  Ainus  of  Japan. 

"They  will  be  entirely  extinct  in  a  quarter  of  a 
century,"  our  guide  said.  "They  are  going  fast. 
They  used  to  be  vigorous  and  militant,  as  Jap- 
anese mythology  shows.  They  were  a  fighting 
race.    They  built  their  houses  by  the  sea.    They 


182  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

used  to  go  out  for  miles  to  fish,  but  now  they  are 
so  petered  out  that  they  go  only  to  the  mouths  of 
the  rivers  to  fish.  They  used  to  hunt  in  the  moun- 
tains,, but  they  do  not  take  hunting-trips  any 
more.  Venereal  diseases  and  rum  (saki)  have 
depleted  them  year  by  year,  just  as  in  the  case 
of  our  American  Indians.  They  are  largely  sterile 
now.  They  used  to  build  their  own  boats,  but 
they  build  no  more.  It  is  a  biological  old  age. 
Their  day  is  through." 

"It  is  a  sad  thing  to  see  a  race  dying  out,"  said 
Pat. 

"Especially  a  white  race,  as  these  Ainus  seem 
to  be,"  said  another  member  of  the  party. 

And  back  to  the  village  we  went  silently,  plod- 
ding through  a  driving  blizzard  that  bore  in  upon 
us  with  terrific  force.  As  we  fought  our  way 
through  this  blizzard,  I  could  not  help  feeling  a 
great  sense  of  depression.  It  is  a  fearful  thing 
to  see  anything  die,  especially  a  race  of  human 
beings.  That  is  a  great  epic  tragedy  worthy  of 
a  Shakespeare.  That  is  enough  to  wring  the  soul 
of  the  gods.  That  a  race  has  played  the  game, 
has  been  powerful  and  conquering  and  trium- 
phant, and  then  step  by  step  has  petered  out  and 
become  weak  and  senile  until  biological  decay  has 
set  in — that  is  fearful. 

Another  illustration  of  the  ignominious  failure 
of  a  lower  type  of  mind  to  understand  a  higher 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAILURE  183 

type  of  mind  is  set  forth  in  the  following  letter 
which  was  written  at  my  request  by  a  missionary 
whom  I  met  in  San  Francisco  just  as  the  final 
chapters  of  this  book  were  being  written. 

The  first  time  I  met  this  missionary  was  in 
Seoul,  Korea. 

I  have  been  told  so  many  times  that  the  cruel- 
ties in  Korea  have  been  stopped.  Certain  men 
said  that  they  had  been  stopped  immediately  after 
the  Independence  Movement,  but  they  were  not 
stopped.  At  frequent  intervals  the  American 
press  is  flooded  with  statements  which  come  from 
Japanese  press  sources  that  the  outrages  in  Korea 
have  ceased. 

I  said  to  this  missionary,  who  had  just  arrived 
from  Korea,  ''Is  it  true  that  the  cruelties  have 
stopped  in  Korea?" 

"No!  They  have  not  stopped !  They  have  not 
even  diminished !  They  are  getting  worse,  rather 
than  better !" 

''Would  you  be  willing  to  write  out,  in  your 
own  handwriting,  a  few  things  that  you  know 
yourself  which  have  occurred  since  I  was  in  Korea 
so  that  the  book  which  I  am  writing  may  be  ac- 
curate and  up  to  date  in  its  facts?" 

"I  will  be  glad  to  do  that  for  you!  We  who 
are  missionaries  dare  not  speak  the  truth !" 

"Why?" 


184  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

"If  we  did  the  Japanese  Government  would 
never  let  us  get  back  to  our  people !" 

"Then  you  may  talk  through  me,  if  you  are 
willing  to  do  it.  I  want  the  truth  to  get  to  the 
American  people!" 

"I  am  not  only  willing  but  I  am  eager  to  talk !" 
said  this  missionary  and  wrote  out  the  following 
story  of  cruelty  against  an  educated  and  cultured 
Korean,  who  was  the  Religious  and  Educational 
Director  in  the  Seoul  Y.M.C.A.  This  story  of 
the  latest  Japanese  barbarisms  I  pass  on  to  the 
reader  in  this  chapter  to  illustrate  another  ig- 
nominious Hun  failure  to  understand  that  the 
practices  of  the  Dark  Ages  will  not  work  in  this 
century : 

"On  May  26th,  1920,  just  as  Mr.  Choi  was  coming  out 
of  his  class  room  he  was  met  by  two  detectives,  one 
Korean  and  one  Japanese,  who  informed  him  that  he  was 
wanted  at  the  Central  Police  Station.  Here  he  was 
turned  over  to  the  Chief  of  Police  and  thrown  into  a  room 
and  kept  ail  day.  Mr.  Brockman  and  Cynn  both  made 
several  attempts  to  find  out  why  he  was  arrested.  Each 
time  they  were  given  an  evasive  answer.  Finally  Mr. 
Cynn  insisted  that  they  tell  him  the  cause  of  the  arrest. 
It  was  finally  discovered  that  he  was  wanted  in  Pyengyang 
on  certain  charges.  He  was  to  leave  Seoul  that  evening 
on  the  II  p.m.  train.  Anxious  to  see  how  Mr.  Choi  was 
being  treated,  Mr.  Cynn  and  several  of  the  Y.M.C.A. 
men  went  down  to  the  station.  Mr.  Choi  with  the  other 
six  students  were  standing  on  the  platform.  Apparently 
Mr.  Choi  was  not  bound  as  is  the  usual  custom.  Closer 
observation,  however,  revealed  the  fact  that  his  hands 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAILURE  185 

were  bound  with  cords,  but  in  his  case  the  ropes  were 
placed  on  the  inside  instead  of  the  outside,  of  the  clothes. 
He  arrived  in  Pyengyang  the  next  day,  May  27,  at  5  p.m. 
Instead  of  taking  Mr.  Choi  first  they  called  in  one  of  the 
students  whose  name  is  Chai  Pony  Am.  After  the  usual 
preliminary  questions  these  inquisitors  of  the  Dark  Ages 
said,  'We  know  all  about  you — everything  you  have  done. 
There  is  no  use  for  you  to  deny  anything.  You  make  a 
clean  confession-  of  everything.'  Mr.  Choi  replied,  'I 
have  done  nothing.  If  I  knew  what  you  wanted,  I  Avould 
tell  you.'  More  pressure  was  urged  in  the  way  of  bom- 
bastic speech.  Finally  the  police  said,  'If  you  won't  tell 
of  your  own  free  will  we  will  make  you  tell !'  Then  the 
tortures,  which  the  Government  published  broadcast  had 
been  done  away  with,  began.  They  brought  out  a  round 
stool  with  four  legs  and  laid  it  down  on  its  side  with  the 
sharp  legs  up  and  made  him  strip  naked.  Then  they  took 
the  silken  bands  (about  2  in.  wide)  and  placing  his  hands 
behind  his  back  until  the  shoulder  blades  touched  begun 
bending  the  arm  from  the  wrist  very  tight.  This  com- 
pleted, they  made  him  kneel  upon  the  sharp  edge  of  the 
legs  of  the  stool  with  his  shins.  Then  they  took  the 
bamboo  paddle  (this  is  made  of  two  strips  of  bamboo 
about  2  in.  wide  and  2  ft.  long  wound  with  cord)  and 
begun  beating  him  on  the  head,  face,  back,  feet  and  thighs. 
Every  time  they  struck  him  his  body  would  move  and  the 
movement  cause  the  shins  to  rub  on  the  sharp  edges  of 
the  stool.  To  further  increase  the  pain  they  took  lighted 
cigarettes  and  burnt  his  flesh.  This  was  continued  until 
the  student  fainted  and  fell  off.  They  then  would  restore 
the  patient  by  artificial  respiration  and  when  he  refused 
to  confess,  continued  the  torture.  This  process  was  con- 
tinued for  45  minutes  and  then  the  student  was  put  into 
a  dark  cell  and  kept  for  three  days.  Upon  the  third  day 
he  was  again  brought  before  these  just  policemen  and 
asked  if  he  were  ready  to  confess.  Said  they,  'If  you  do 
not  tell  us  this  time  we  will  kill  you.  You  see  how  the 
waters  of  the  Tai  Pong  (the  river  at  Pyengyang)  wear 
smooth  these  stones.  That  is  what  we  do  with  those  who 
come  in  here.    Many  have  been  killed  in  here.    Your  life 


186  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

is  not  worth  as  much  as  a  fly.'  He  was  tortured  in  the 
same  manner  as  before  and  then  put  back  into  the  cell 
for  another  three  days.  This  process  was  continued  every 
three  days  for  two  weeks. 

"When  Mr.  Choi,  the  educational  director  of  the 
Y.M.C.A.  was  called  in  the  police  said,  'You  are  an 
educated  gentleman  and  we  propose  to  give  you  the  gen- 
tleman's treatment.  We  do  not  want  to  treat  you  like 
ordinary  men.  Now  we  want  you  to  tell  us  what  your 
thoughts  have  been  and  are.  Make  a  confession  of  any- 
thing you  have  done  since  March  ist,  1919.'  Mr.  Choi 
said,  'What  do  you  want  me  to  confess?  If  you  will 
give  me  a  little  time  I  will  write  you  out  something.'  This 
they  refused  to  do  and  said,  'Since  you  refuse  to  tell  us 
we  will  make  you  tell.  We  will  treat  you  like  all  other 
dogs.'  Then  they  forcibly  took  off  his  clothes,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  bind  him  in  the  same  manner  as  the  previous 
student.  After  being  bound  he  was  placed  on  the  stool 
and  beaten.  He  did  not  lose  his  consciousness  but  fell  off 
the  stool,  and  then  was  placed  back  and  the  same  process 
continued.  When  Mr.  Choi  fell  off  the  stool  the  bands 
on  his  arms  were  loosened  and  they  proceeded  to  unloosen 
and  rewind  his  arms.  This  time  they  wound  them  tighter 
than  before.  At  the  ends  of  these  bands  are  brass  rings 
which  are  placed  next  to  the  flesh  and  made  to  press  upon 
the  nerves.  This  time  Mr.  Choi  said  as  they  wound  his 
right  arm  he  felt  a  sharp  pain  and  at  once  noticed  that  he 
had  lost  the  use  of  his  arm.  It  was  paralyzed.  Mr.  Choi 
was  tortured  five  times  in  all — one  every  three  days.  The 
first  torture  lasted  one  hour  and  the  succeeding  ones  were 
less  severe  than  the  first.  At  the  end  of  two  weeks,  June 
loth,  Mr.  Choi  and  the  six  students  with  him  were  called 
before  a  police  captain  who  said  to  the  students,  'There  is 
nothing  against  you.  Some  bad  Korean  has  testified  falsely 
against  you.  We  are  sorry  you  have  suffered  but  you  can 
now  go  free.'  However  to  Mr.  Choi  he  said,  'You  must 
remain  here  a  week  yet.  You  are  still  under  police  super- 
vision.    Go  to hotel  and  stay.'     On  June  i6th  the 

police  came  to  the  hotel  where  he  was  staying  and  said, 
'You  may  go  down  to  Seoul  tonight.'     Mr.  Choi  arrived 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FAH^URE  187 

in  Seoul  on  the  17th  and  gave  this  testimony.    His  arm 
is  still  paralyzed." 

And  so  it  is  that  these  great  failures  stand 
out:  the  failure  of  a  race  of  people  to  survive; 
the  failure  of  the  American  people  to  estimate  the 
loss  of  Shantung  at  its  proper  valuation  spir- 
itually, and  the  failure  of  Japan  to  understand 
that  Korea  is  still  and  ever  shall  be  Korea  the 
Unconquered;  this  Korea  which  I  call  "The  Wild 
Boar  at  Bay." 


CHAPTER  X 

FLASH-LIGHTS   OF   FRIENDSHIP 

WE  were  running  down  the  Samabs  River 
in  a  small  Dutch  ship,  the  Merkens. 
This  river,  running  almost  parallel  to  the 
Equator,  and  not  more  than  fifty  miles  away  from 
that  well-known  institution,  cuts  the  western  end 
of  Borneo  in  two,,  and  lends  phenomenal  fertility 
to  its  soil. 

Shooting  around  a  bend  in  the  river,  suddenly 
there  loomed  on  the  western  shores,  so  close  that 
we  could  throw  a  stone  and  hit  it,  a  tree  that  was 
leafless,  dead  as  a  volcanic  dump;  but  its  dead 
branches  literally  swarmed  with  monkeys.  The 
light  in  the  west  had  so  far  gone  that  they  ap- 
peared as  silent  silhouettes  against  the  sunset. 
Their  tails,  which  seemed  to  be  about  three  feet 
long,  and  were  curled  at  the  ends,  hung  below  the 
dead  branches.  One  big  fellow  had  perched  him- 
self on  the  tiptop  of  the  tree,  and  in  the  dim  light 
he  looked  like  a  human  sentinel  as  his  black  out- 
line appeared  against  the  evening  light. 

Then  came  Missionary  Worthington's  story 
about  Kin  Thung,  the  boy  who,  with  character- 

189 


190  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

istic  Oriental  spirit,  had  quick  murder  in  his 
heart : 

"It  was  while  I  was  the  head  of  the  Boys' 
School  down  in  Batavia,  Java,  that  it  happened. 
One  has  experiences  out  here  in  dealing  with 
youth  that  he  does  not  get  at  home,  for  it  is  in- 
flammable material,  explosive  to  the  highest  de- 
gree." 

I  waited  for  his  story  to  continue  as  the  Dutch 
ship  glided  swiftly  down  the  river  toward  the 
South  China  Sea,  and  night  settled  over  us  as 
we  sat  there  on  the  upper  deck,  watching  the 
crimson  glory  change  into  sudden  purple. 

"I  heard  a  noise  and  I  knew  there  was  a  fight 
on  in  the  dormitory.  I  had  seen  the  aftermath 
of  such  Malay  and  Chinese  feuds  in  our  schools 
before,,  and  I  knew  that  it  was  no  trivial  matter, 
as  it  often  is  with  boy  fights  at  home,  so  I  hurried 
up. 

"When  I  got  there  I  saw  Kin  Thung  wiping 
his  knife,  and  the  boy  he  had  been  fighting  lying 
on  the  floor,  bleeding  from  a  long  wound." 

"What  had  happened?" 

"Kin  Thung  was  a  quick-tempered  boy.  In 
addition  to  that,  he  was  of  a  sullen  make-up, 
with,  what  I  call,  a  criminal  tendency  in  him. 
That,  added  to  his  already  volatile  spirit,  made 
him  a  real  problem  in  the  school.  For  instance, 
he  was  the  kind  of  a  boy  who,  if  a  teacher  called 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP        191 

on  him  without  warning  to  recite,  he  would  get 
uncontrollably  angry,  turn  sullen  and  refuse  to 
answer." 

"Why  didn't  you  fire  him?"  I  said. 

"That  would  have  been  the  easy  thing  to  do. 
I  preferred  to  win  him  rather  than  to  fire  him!" 

I  felt  ashamed  of  myself  for  my  suggestion, 
and  looked  out  into  the  night  skies  where  the 
beautiful  form  of  the  southern  cross  loomed  in 
the  zenith. 

"No,  I  didn't  fire  him." 

"What  did  you  do?" 

"As  I  was  dressing  the  boy's  wound  Kin  Thung 
stood  looking  on,  utterly  expressionless  and  un- 
repentant, even  sullen. 

"I  didn't  say  anything  to  Kin  that  night,  save 
to  ask  him  to  come  to  the  office  the  next  day. 

"The  other  boys  were  calling  out  to  him  as  he 
entered,  and  I  could  hear  them  through  the  win- 
dow, T  wonder  how  many  strokes  of  the  rattan 
he  will  get?'  for  that  is  one  of  our  forms  of 
punishment. 

"He  was  no  doubt  wondering  himself  when 
he  entered,  still  sullen. 

"I  said  to  him,  'Kin,  I  could  give  you  as  punish- 
ment a  hundred  strokes  of  the  rattan.  I  could 
put  you  on  rice  and  water  for  a  month,  or  I  could 
put  you  to  a  room  for  a  week  in  solitary  con- 


192  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

finement.  But  I  am  not  going  to  do  either  or 
any  of  them.    I  am  going  to  pray  for  you !" 

"  'I  don't  want  you  to,  sir !'  he  cried  in  alarm. 

"  'Kneel  down !'  I  said  to  him. 

"  'I  don't  want  to.' 

"  'Kneel  down,  I  say !' 

"'I  won't!' 

"  'But  this  is  your  punishment.  You  would 
submit  to  the  rattan  if  I  imposed  that.  You  must 
submit  to  this !'  I  said. 

"'I  hate  prayer!' 

"  'Kneel  down,  boy !' 

"He  knelt.    I  prayed.    He  wept." 

This  was  the  cryptic  way  the  missionary  came 
to  the  climax  of  his  story.  Again  the  Southern 
Cross  shot  into  view  as  we  turned  a  curve  in  the 
river. 

"The  fountain  broke.  A  boy's  heart  was  won ! 
I  didn't  have  to  fire  him.    I  won  him !" 

"That  lad  came  to  me  two  years  later  as  he 
started  out  from  our  school  in  Batavia,  and  said, 
'Mr.  Worthington,  that  moment  when  you  called 
me  into  your  office  was  the  crucial  moment  of  my 
life.  If  you  had  been  unkind  to  me  then;  if  you 
had  punished  me,  even  as  much  as  I  deserved  it ; 
if  you  had  not  been  Christ-like,  I  should  have 
killed  you.  I  had  my  knife  ready.  There  was  a 
demon  in  me!  Your  kindness,  your  praying  for 
me,,  broke  something  inside  of  me.    I  guess  it  was 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP        19S 

my  heart.  I  cried.  I  prayed.  That  morning 
saved  my  soul !' " 

"That  was  a  marvelous  experience,  Mr.  Mis- 
sionary! It  was  a  marvelous  way  to  meet  the 
situation,"  I  said  in  a  low  tone,  looking  up  at  the 
white  outline  of  the  Southern  Cross,  and  remem- 
bering two  thieves. 

*'It  was  Christ's  way !"  said  the  missionary. 

But  perhaps  the  outstanding  Flash-light  of  na- 
tional Friendship  is  that  of  America  for  the 
Philippines.  I  shall  never  forget  the  day  we 
started  southward  from  winter-bound  China  for 
sun-warmed  Manila. 

As  the  great  ship  swung  about  in  the  muddy 
waters  of  the  Yangsti  and  turned  southward, 
the  bitter  winds  of  winter  were  blowing  across 
her  deserted  decks.  But  in  two  days  one  felt 
not  only  a  breath  of  warm  tropical  winds  on  his 
face  but  he  also  felt  a  breath  of  warmer  friend- 
ship blowing  into  his  soul  as  he  thought  of  the 
Philippines  and  America. 

The  first  breath  of  warm  winds  from  southern 
tropical  seas  gently  kissed  one's  cheeks  that  after- 
noon. It  was  a  soothing  breath  of  romance, 
freighted  with  the  scent  of  tropical  trees.  It  was 
much  of  a  contrast  with  the  bitter  winter  winds 
that  had  blown  the  day  before  at  Shanghai.  There 
the  snow  was  flying,  and  woolen  suits  were 
greatly  needed. 


194»  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

But  to-night  men  and  women  alike  walk  the 
decks  of  this  Manila-bound  ship.  They  are  all 
in  white.  One  stands  at  the  bow  of  the  ship,  glad 
to  catch  the  salt  spray  on  tanned  cheeks,  glad  to 
feel  the  sea-touched  winds  playing  with  his  hair, 
glad  to  see  fair  women  of  the  Orient  tanned  with 
summer  suns ;  for  it  is  summer  in  the  Philippines, 
while  winter  reigns  in  China  and  the  rest  of  the 
Oriental  lands  further  north. 

Last  night  we  passed  the  narrow  straits  lead- 
ing out  of  Shanghai  harbor  directly  south.  Two 
lighthouses  blinked  through  the  dusk  of  evening, 
the  one  to  the  north  in  short  sharp  notes,  like  a 
musician  of  the  sea  singing  coasts,  rapidly  beat- 
ing time.  The  light  to  the  south  seemed  to  count 
four  in  blinks  and  then  hold  its  last  count  like  a 
note  of  music.  In  between  the  two  lighthouses 
vague,  dim,  mist-belted  mountains  of  the  China 
coast  loomed  through  the  dusk. 

This  morning  and  all  day  long  we  have  been 
sailing  past  the  huge  outlines  of  mountainous 
Formosa,  that  rich  island  off  the  coast  of  China, 
between  Shanghai  and  Manila.  It  looks  like 
some  fairly  island  with  its  coves  and  caves,  into 
which  pours  the  purple  sea,  visible  through  the 
faint  mists  of  morning  and  noontime.  Its  pre- 
cipitous sides  shoot  down  to  the  sea  in  great  bare 
cliffs,   save   where,   here   and  there,    a   beauti- 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP        195 

f ul  bay  runs  in  from  the  southern  sea  to  kiss  the 
green  lips  of  the  land. 

But  now  the  sun  is  setting.  I  am  watching  it 
from  my  stateroom  window. 

•  ••••• 

And  now  it  is  the  rainy  season  in  the  Philip- 
pines. 

It  doesn't  rain  in  Luzon;  it  opens  up  clouds, 
and  oceans  suddenly  drop  to  the  land.  Lakes  and 
rivers  form  overnight.  Bridges  wash  out,  fields 
are  inundated,  houses  by  thousands  are  swept 
away,  and  railroad  tracks  twisted  and  played 
with,  as  if  they  were  grappled  by  gigantic  fists. 

Men  will  tell  you  of  the  great  Typhoon  that 
suddenly  dropped  out  of  the  mountains  at  Baguio, 
sliced  off  a  few  sections  of  the  mountains,  rushed 
down  through  the  great  gorge,  and  left  in  its 
trail  the  iron  ruins  of  eight  or  ten  bridges,  put  in 
by  American  engineers,,  founded  on  solid  granite ; 
but  swept  away  like  playthings  of  wood,  in  an 
hour. 

•  •■••• 

One  night  we  were  driving  from  Baguio  to 
Manila. 

A  storm  dropped  suddenly  out  of  the  nowhere. 
We  had  no  side  curtains  on,  and  in  just  three 
minutes  we  were  soaked  to  the  skin,  and  dripping 
streams  of  water.    The  artesian  wells  along  the 


196  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

way  were  but  dribbling  springs  compared  with 
us. 

The  storm  came  out  of  a  clear,  star-lit  sky. 
Storms  come  that  way  in  the  Philippines.  Only 
a  few  minutes  before  I  had  been  looking  up  at 
the  Southern  Cross  admiring  its  beauty.  I  looked 
again  and  there  was  no  Southern  Cross.  A  few 
great  drops  of  rain  fell  and  then  came  the  deluge. 

Candle  lights  flickered  in  innumerable  thatched 
houses  where  brown  and  naked  women  fluttered 
about  dodging  the  rain,  looking  strangely  like 
great  paintings  in  the  night.  At  the  edge  of  each 
side  porch  a  Bamboo  ladder  reached  up  from  the 
ground.  A  fire  burned  against  the  rain.  This  fire 
leapt  up  for  two  feet. 

One  could  easily  imagine  on  this  stormy  night, 
with  every  road  a  river,  every  field  a  flood,  and 
every  vacant  space  a  sea,  that  the  thatched  houses 
raised  on  Bamboo  poles  were  boats,  afloat  in  a 
great  ocean.  The  fires  on  the  back  porches  looked 
for  all  the  world  like  the  fires  that  I  have  seen 
flaring  against  the  night  from  Japanese  fishing 
boats. 

We  had  been  warm,  personal  friends  since  col- 
lege days,  this  driver  and  I.  He  had  chosen  the 
harder  way  of  the  mission  fields  to  spend  his  life. 

"After  all,"  said  he,  "that  was  a  dream  worth 
dreaming !" 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP       197 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked  him,  a  bit 
startled. 

"Why  the  American  occupation  of  these 
islands ;  the  dream  that  McKinley  had,  of  teach- 
ing them  to  govern  themselves;  and  then  giving 
them  their  independence;  an  Imperial  Dream 
such  as  the  world  never  heard  of  before;  a  dream 
that,  if  it  has  done  nothing  else,  has  won  for 
America  the  undying  friendship  of  the  intelligent 
Filipino." 

"Right  you  are,  man !  But  why  such  a  thought 
at  this  ungodly  hour  ?  I  should  think  rather  that 
you  would  be  sending  out  an  S.  O.  S." 

"Dunno !  Just  flashed  over  me  that  that  was  a 
dream  worth  dreaming;  and,  by  gad,  boy,  we're 
seeing  it  come  to  pass.  Look  at  those  contented 
people  living  in  peace  and  security;  their  home 
fires  lighted;  their  children  in  school;  plenty  to 
eat;  not  afraid  that  to-morrow  morning  some 
Friar  will  sell  their  home  from  under  them.  No 
wonder  they  have  given  their  undying  friendship 
to  America!" 

He  continued  as  we  sped  through  the  rain. 

"England  and  Germany  sneered  at  America's 
dream.  Such  a  dream  of  friendship  through 
serving  its  colony  had  never  been  born  in  any 
other  national  soul  from  the  Genesis  of  coloniza- 
tion up  to  this  day,  save  in  the  soul  of  America 
in  the  Philippines.    We  have  set  the  ideals  of  the 


198   FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

world  in  many  ways  but  never  in  a  more  marked 
way  than  this. 

"The  Phoenicians  were  the  first  colonizers  and 
they  swept  the  Mediterranean  with  a  policy  of 
exploitation  and  slavery  which  was  selfish  and 
sordid.  Then  came  Greece  which  had  some  such 
ideal  of  colonization  as  America.  Her  ideal  was, 
that  colonies,  like  fruit  from  a  tree,  when  ripe, 
should  fall  off  of  the  mother  tree.  Or  the  ideal 
of  Greece  was  that  colonizing  should  come  about 
like  the  swarming  of  bees." 

I  nodded  my  head.  He  went  on  as  we  slashed 
through  the  muddy  ways,  "Rome  with  her  Im- 
perial dream,  her  army  to  back  it  up,  failed  as 
have  failed  both  Germany  and  Japan;  three  na- 
tions with  kindred  ideals  as  to  colonization. 

"Venice  was  cruel,  adventurous  and  rapacious 
in  her  colonizing  policy  on  the  Black  Sea  and  she 
left  a  record  of  exploitations  which  makes  a  black 
blotch  on  the  world's  pages. 

"Modern  colonization  began  with  Spain  in 
South  America,  Mexico  and  the  Philippines. 
Spain  has  nothing  over  which  to  boast  in  that 
record.  The  Dutch  in  Java,  the  record  of  Bel- 
gium in  the  Congo ;  that  of  the  Portuguese  in  the 
Far  East;  the  French  in  Africa;  the  English  in 
India ;  Germany  in  China  and  Africa,  and  Japan 
in  Korea,,  have  not  been  entirely  for  the  service  of 
the  subjected  people,  for  all  of  these  Governments 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP       199 

have  gone  on  the  fundamental  theory  that  the 
colony  exists  for  the  Mother  States." 

He  paused  a  moment  as  we  made  a  cautious 
way  around  a  big  caribou.  "Then  came  the  great 
dream  of  America  that  the  Mother  State  exists 
for  the  benefit  of  the  colony. 

*'Elihu  Root  said,  *We  have  declared  a  trust 
for  the  benefit  of  the  people  of  the  Philippine 
Islands !' 

"President  William  McKinley  said:  The  gov- 
ernment is  designed  not  for  exploitation  nor  for 
our  own  satisfaction,  or  for  the  expression  of  our 
theoretical  views,  but  for  the  happiness,  peace 
and  prosperity  of  the  people  of  the  Philippine 
Islands.' 

"Ex-President  Taft  said  when  he  was  Gov- 
ernor-General of  the  Islands:  'The  chief  diifer- 
ence  between  the  English  policy  and  treatment 
of  tropical  peoples  and  ours,  arises  from  the  fact 
that  we  are  seeking  to  prepare  them  under  our 
guidance  for  popular  self-government.  We  are 
attempting  to  do  this,  first  by  primary  and  secon- 
dary education  offered  freely  to  the  Filipino 
people.' 

"This  spirit  has  won  the  undying  friendship  of 
the  Filipino  people.  True  enough,  they  will  finally 
want  their  independence.  That  is  natural,  but 
there  is  a  deep  love  for  America  buried  in  their 
hearts  because  America  has  been  square  with 


200   FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

them;  has  fulfilled  her  promises;  has  not  ex- 
ploited them,  but  has  served  them.  That  is  why 
I  call  the  colonization  policy  of  America  here  in 
the  Philippines  a  dream  worth  dreaming/'  My 
friend  was  right. 

"We  love  America.,  because  America  is  our 
friend!"  said  a  humble  fisherman  to  me  one  day 
on  the  banks  of  the  Pasig. 

"Yes,  the  United  States ;  it  is  our  own !  You 
are  our  brothers!"  said  a  Filipino  boy  who  had 
been  educated  in  a  Mission  school. 

"We  are  no  longer  our  own.  We  belong  to 
America.  You  have  bought  us  with  a  price !  It 
cost  the  blood  of  American  soldiers  to  buy  us!" 
said  an  old  Filipino,  gray  with  years,  but  high  in 
the  councils  of  the  Government. 

•  ••••• 

One  night  on  the  Lunetta  the  Filipino  Band 
was  playing.  It  was  a  beautiful  evening  with  a 
sunset  that  lifted  one  into  the  very  skies  with 
its  bewildering  glory  and  ecstasy.  I  had  been 
sitting  there,  drinking  in  the  beautiful  music 
made  by  the  world-famous  Constabulary  Band, 
and  watching  the  quicksilver-like  changing  colors 
of  the  sunset.  Then  the  band  started  to  play 
"The  Star  Spangled  Banner."  I  was  so  lost  in 
the  sunset  and  the  music  that  I  did  not  notice. 

I  heard  a  sudden  stirring.  Brown  bodies,  half- 
naked  Filipinos  all  about  me,  had  leapt  to  their 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP        201 

feet  at  the  playing  of  our  national  hymn.  Beauti- 
ful Filipino  women  in  their  dainty  and  delicately 
winged  gowns,  bare  brown  shoulders  heaving 
with  pride  and  friendship,  stood  reverently.  Fili- 
pino soldiers  all  over  the  Lunetta  stood  at  atten- 
tion facing  the  flag,  the  Stars  and  Stripes  wav- 
ing in  the  winds  from  the  old  walled  city.  Side 
by  side  with  American  soldiers  who  had  just  re- 
turned from  Siberia  stood  Filipino  Constabulary 
soldiers.  Side  by  side  with  well-dressed  Ameri- 
can children  stood  half -naked  Filipino  children 
at  reverent  attention,  paying  a  wholesome  respect 
to  the  Stars  and  Stripes  as  the  old  hymn  swept 
across  the  Lunetta. 

"That  is  a  thrilling  thing  to  see!"  I  said  to  a 
friend. 

"It  could  not  have  happened  ten  years  ago!" 
he  replied. 

"Why?" 

"They  did  not  trust  us,  and  they  did  not  love 
us.  They  had  seen  too  much  of  the  selfish  coloni- 
zation policies  of  Spain.  They  expected  the  same 
things  from  America.  It  did  not  come.  They 
have  been  won  to  us!" 

This  warm-hearted  friendship  is  not  true  either 
of  England's  colonies  anywhere  in  the  Orient  or 
of  Japan's  in  Formosa  or  Korea.  It  is  true  alone 
in  the  Philippines. 


202   FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

While  I  was  in  the  Philippines,  down  in  San 
Fernando,  a  statue  was  erected  to  a  well-known 
rebel.  He  was  a  man  who  had  refused  to  take 
the  oath  of  allegiance  to  America  when  we  cap- 
tured the  islands.  He  escaped  and  carried  on  a 
propaganda  against  us.  But  when  he  died  and 
a  request  was  made  that  a  statue  be  erected  to  his 
memory,  the  United  States  granted  this  permis- 
sion. 

At  the  dedication  of  this  statue  the  Governor 
of  this  Province  said  that  he  doubted  if  any  na- 
tion on  the  face  of  the  earth,  save  the  United 
States,  would  have  permitted  the  erection  of  such 
a  statue  to  a  rebel  against  that  government.  "That 
act  will  bind  our  hearts  closer  to  the  heart  of 
the  United  States!"  he  said  in  closing  his  ad- 
dress. The  thrilling  thing  about  it  all  was,  that 
his  address  was  met  with  prolonged  cheering  on 
the  part  of  the  thousands  of  Filipinos  who  had 
gathered  for  the  dedication. 

Another  evidence  of  this  beautiful  friendship 
for  America  is  the  painting  which  adorns  the 
walls  of  one  of  the  Government  buildings  in 
Manila.  It  is  called  "The  Welcome  to  America." 
It  was  purchased,  paid  for  and  erected  by  Fili- 
pinos ;  erected  in  good  will,  with  laughter  in  their 
souls,  and  joy  in  their  hearts. 

It  was  painted  by  Hidalgo  in  Paris  in  1904. 

High   colors;    reds,   browns,   yellows,   golds, 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP        20S 

blues,  purples;  tell  its  story.  It  adorns  the  panel 
at  the  end  of  the  Senate  Chamber  of  the  Filipino 
Government. 

It  has  spirit  in  it  and  a  great,  deep  sincerity. 

The  central  figure  is  a  beautiful  woman,  sym- 
bolic of  America.  She  comes  across  the  Pacific 
carrying  the  gifts  of  peace,  prosperity,  security 
and  love  to  her  colony,  the  Philippines. 

She  carries  in  one  hand  the  American  flag. 
At  her  side  is  Youth  bearing  a  Harp,  symbol 
of  the  music  that  America  brings  into  the  souls 
of  the  people  whom  she  comes  to  serve.  Singing 
angels  hover  about  the  scene. 

Above  the  central  figure  of  America,  on  angel 
wings,  is  a  Youth  carrying  a  lighted  torch.  To 
the  left  is  a  beautiful  brown-skinned  Filipino 
woman  with  eyes  uplifted  to  this  torch.  She 
bears  within  her  ample  bosom  the  children  of  the 
islands.  The  torch  is  symbol  of  the  fact  that  we 
are  handing  on  the  light  of  our  Christian  civiliza- 
tion to  the  children  of  our  colonies. 

I  visited  this  painting  many  times,,  but  I  never 
visited  it  that  I  did  not  see  many  Filipinos,  both 
young  and  old,  standing  before  it,  with  reverent 
eyes. 

I  said  to  a  high  official  of  the  Government, 
"Does  that  painting  represent  the  way  you  Fili- 
pinos feel  to-day?" 


^04  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

"Hidalgo  has  spoken  for  us.  He  has  voiced 
our  feelings  well !"  was  the  reply. 

This  friendship  for  the  United  States  is  a 
thrilling  thing  found  all  over  the  Far  East.  One 
finds  it  in  Korea,  as  well  as  in  the  Philippines, 
like  a  burning  light  of  glory.  Korea  says, 
"America  is  our  only  hope!  We  have  always 
trusted  and  loved  America !" 

One  finds  it  like  a  silver  stream  running 
through  the  life  of  China.  Dr.  Sun  Yat  Sen 
said  to  me  in  Shanghai:  "America  has  always 
been  China's  staunch  friend !  America  we  trust ! 
America  we  love !  America  is  our  hope !  America 
is  our  model!" 

Mr.  Tang  Shao-yi  said,  "America's  hands  and 
those  of  America  alone  are  clean  in  her  relations 
with  China.  This  cannot  be  said  of  the  other 
nations." 

Then  he  told  me  a  thrilling  story  of  the  Boxer 
Rebellion.  He,  with  two  thousand  Chinese,  who 
were  Government  officials,  were  barricaded  in  a 
compound  behind  the  usual  Chinese  walls.  The 
Boxers  were  firing  on  them  every  day.  They  had 
run  out  of  food.    In  fact,  they  were  starving. 

But  one  morning  a  bright- faced  American  boy 
appeared  at  the  gates  of  the  wall.  He  was  ad- 
mitted because  he  was  an  American.  He  asked 
to  be  taken  to  Mr.  Tang  Shao-yi. 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP       205 

"What  do  you  most  need  V  this  young  Ameri- 
can asked  the  rich  Chinese  merchant. 

"We  most  need  food,"  was  the  reply. 

"All  right,  I'll  get  enough  for  you  to-day  !"^ 
said  the  young  American. 

"That  night,,"  said  Mr.  Tang  Shao-yi,  "that 
American  boy  returned  with  five  hundred  hams 
which  the  Boxers  had  thrown  away,  in  addition 
to  a  thousand  sacks  of  flour  which  he  had  gotten 
from  the  English  legation." 

"Wonderful!"  I  exclaimed. 

"And  that  boyish  American  was " 

"Who?"  I  asked  with  tense  interest,  for  the 
old  man  was  smiling  with  a  suggestive  Oriental 
smile,  as  if  he  had  a  climax  up  his  commodious 
sleeves. 

"That  man  was  Herbert  Hoover!" 

And  from  that  interview  henceforth  and  for- 
ever no  human  being  need  tell  me  that  the  Chinese 
have  no  sense  of  the  dramatic. 

"That's  why  we  love  and  trust  America,"  said 
this  great  Chinese  statesman.  "It  is  because 
America  has  always  been  our  friend  in  time  of 
need!" 

I  found  this  friendship  for  the  United  States 
true  all  over  the  Oriental  world.  It  was  to  me  a 
great  miracle  of  national  friendship.  The  peoples 
of  the  Orient  trust  us.  They  are  not  suspicious 
of  our  intentions  in  spite  of  what  jingo  papers 


206  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

say.  We  have  won  their  hearts.  We  have 
claimed  their  friendship. 

The  name  "America,"  which  stands  in  the  Ori- 
ental mind  for  the  United  States,  is  a  sacred  pass- 
port and  password.  It  is  a  magical  word.  It 
opens  doors  that  are  locked  to  all  the  rest  of  the 
world;  it  tears  down  barriers.,  century-old,  that 
have  been  barricading  certain  places  for  ages 
past.  That  simple  word  opens  hearts  that  would 
open  with  none  other. 

The  eyes  of  the  brown  men  of  the  Far  East 
open  wide  at  that  word,  and  a  new  light  appears 
in  them.  This  is  particularly  true  in  Korea,  in 
China,  in  the  Malacca  Straits,  and  in  the  Philip- 
pines. 

It  is  enough  to  bring  a  flood  of  tears  to  the 
heart  of  an  American,  lonely  for  a  sight  of  his 
own  flag,  homesick  for  his  native  shores,  to  see 
and  feel  and  hear  and  know  the  pulse  of  this 
friendship  for  our  country  among  millions  of 
brown  men. 

*Tt  is  because  we  are  like  you,  we  Chinese," 
said  Tang  Shao-yi.  "It  is  because  we  are  both 
Democrats  at  heart !" 

"It  is  because  you  have  been  our  true  friends !" 
said  Dr.  Sun  Yat  Sen. 

"It  is  because  your  ideals  are  our  ideals ;  your 
dreams    our    dreams    and    your    friends    our 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP       207 

friends,"  said  Wu  Ting-fang,  one  of  China's 
greatest  leaders,  to  me. 

"It  is  because  so  many  of  our  young  men  have 
been  trained  in  your  American  schools,  and  be- 
cause so  many  of  us  feel  that  the  United  States 
is  our  second  home.  It  is  because  you  have  sent 
so  many  good  men  and  women  to  China  to  help 
.  us ;  to  teach  us ;  to  live  with  us ;  to  love  us ;  to 
serve  us!  It  is  because  your  missionaries  from 
America  have  shown  the  real  heart  of  the  United 
States  to  us !"  said  Mr.  Walter  Busch,  a  Chinese 
American  student  who  is  now  editor  of  the  Peking 
Leader. 

But  whatever  the  cause,  the  glorious  fact  is 
enough  to : 

"Send  a  thrill  of  rapture  through  the  framework  of  the 

heart 
And  warm  the  inner  bein'  till  the  tear  drops  want  to 

start !" 

But  perhaps  the  highest  and  holiest  Flash- 
lights of  Friendship  that  one  finds  in  the  Far 
East  is  that  of  the  friendship  formed  by  the 
American  missionaries  for  the  people  among 
whom  they  are  working,  and  the  friendship  that 
these  people  give  in  return.  These  are  holy 
things. 

The  average  missionary  comes  home  on  his 
furlough,  but  before  he  is  home  three  months 
he  is  homesick  to  go  back  to  his  people.    So  they 


208  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

come  and  go  across  the  seas  of  the  world  through 
the  years,  weaving  like  a  great  Shuttle  of  Service 
the  fabric  of  friendship  for  themselves  and  for 
the  United  States. 

This  shuttle  of  service  is  being  woven  night 
and  day  across  the  Atlantic  and  across  the  Pa- 
cific by  great  ships  bearing  missionaries  going 
and  coming;  furlough  following  furlough,  after 
six  years  of  service;  term  after  term;  leaving 
native  land,  children,  memories;  time  after  time 
until  death  ends  that  particular  thread,  crimson, 
gold,  brown  or  white.  The  great  Shuttle  of  Love 
weaves  the  fabric  of  friendship  across  the  seas 
as  the  ships  come  and  go,  bearing  outbound  and 
homebound  missionaries  to  foreign  fields. 

I  am  thinking  particularly  of  the  Pacific  as  I 
write  this  sketch  sitting  in  a  room  overlooking 
the  great  harbor  of  Yokohama  where  three  Jap- 
anese warship  lie  anchored  and  two  great  Pacific 
liners,,  one  on  its  way  to  San  Francisco  and 
another  bound  for  Vancouver.  They  come  and 
go,  these  great  ships.  A  few  days  ago  the  Em- 
press of  Asia  made  its  twenty-eighth  trip  across 
and  it  soon  will  start  on  its  twenty-eighth  trip 
back  to  Vancouver  again.  Some  of  the  ships  out 
of  San  Francisco  have  made  more  than  a  hundred 
trips.  So  they  weave  the  shuttle  back  and  for- 
ward across  this  great  sea.  And  never  a  ship 
sails  this  sea  that  it  does  not  carry  its  passenger 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP       t09 

list  of  missionaries.  Our  list  was  more  than  half 
a  hundred. 

As  Mr.  Forman,  in  a  sympathetic  and  appre- 
ciative article  that  he  has  written  for  the  Ladies^ 
Home  Journal,  says,  the  common  phrase  on  a 
Pacific  liner  is,,  "There  are  two  hundred  and  fifty 
passengers  and  forty-five  missionaries  on  board." 
Every  Pacific  passenger  list  immediately  divides 
itself  into  two  groups,  the  missionaries  and  the 
other  passengers. 

Then  Mr.  Forman  proceeds  to  slay  those  shal- 
low, narrow-minded,  often  ignorant  and  unedu- 
cated tourists  and  business  men  who  dare  to  speak 
of  this  traveling  missionary  with  derision.  Mr. 
Forman  has  no  particular  interest  in  missions 
and  he  has  no  particular  interest  in  the  Church, 
but  he  started  out  to  investigate  this  derogatory 
phrase,,  "and  forty-five  missionaries." 

Mr.  Forman  starts  his  article  with  these  strik- 
ing paragraphs 

"If  ever  you  cross  the  Pacific  you  will  find  the  passen- 
gers on  the  steamer  quietly  and  automatically  dividing 
themselves  into  two  groups. 

"  'How  many  passengers  have  we  on  board  ?'  you  may 
lightly  ask  your  neighbor. 

"And  your  neighbor,  traveled  man  no  doubt  (his  twelfth 
crossing,  he  will  mention),  will  smartly  reply,  with  a 
suave,  man-of-the-world  smile:  A  hundred  and  two  pas- 
sengers and  forty-five  missionaries.' 

"After  that  you  will  be  initiated  and  you  will  be  men- 
tioning with  an  easy  grace  to  some  one  else  that  there  arc 


210  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

on  board  so  many  passengers  and  so  many  missionaries. 
It  becomes  a  part  of  the  jargon  of  Pacific  crossing." 

But  Mr.  Forman  sees  working  that  Shuttle  of 
Service  of  which  I  am  speaking.  He  sees,  as 
any  thinking  man  sees,  as  Roosevelt  saw,  as 
Bryan  saw,  and  as  Taft  saw,,  that  the  greatest 
single  influence  for  good  in  the  Orient  is  the 
missionary.  Mr.  Forman  was  incensed  at  this 
careless  phrase  on  the  Pacific  liners,  and  he  in- 
vestigated the  work  of  our  missionaries  when  he 
was  in  the  Orient,  and  he  came  to  the  decision 
that  they  are  worth  more  to  America,  even  from 
that  selfish  standpoint,  than  all  the  ambassadors 
that  we  have  sent  over,  because  they  are,  in  their 
)!(^rossing  and  recrossing,  weaving  a  Fabric  of 
I^riendship  between  the  Orient  and  the  Occident ; 
between  the  nations  of  the  East  and  those  of  the 
West ;  between  the  white  peoples  and  the  brown 
peoples ;  in  spite  of  the  diplomatic  differences  and 
yellow  newspapers  in  the  United  States  and 
Japan. 

Mr.  Forman  says  about  his  conclusions : 

"I  concluded  that  any  one  of  the  large  missions  in  those 
Oriental  countries  accomplished,  so  far  as  concerns  Ameri- 
can standing  and  prestige,  more  than  all  our  diplomatic 
representation  there  put  together.  I  do  not  believe  it  to 
be  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  for  the  Orient  the  mis- 
sionaries are  perhaps  the  only  useful  form  of  what  is 
called  diplomatic  representation." 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP       211 

And  again  in  the  same  article  he  says: 

"One  good  missionary  in  the  right  place,  it  seemed  to 
me,  can  accomplish  more  than  quite  a  number  of  am- 
bassadors." 

And  again  he  wonderfully  sums  up  that  mis- 
sion of  love  in  a  paragraph  which  I  think  ought 
to  be  passed  on : 

"But  when  a  missionary  establishes  a  clinic  or  a  hos- 
pital, healing  sores  and  diseases  that  their  own  medicine 
men  have  abandoned  as  hopeless;  when  he  educates  boys 
and  girls  that  otherwise  would  have  remained  in  dark- 
ness; when,  with  a  whole-souled  enthusiasm,  he  gives 
them  counsel,  aid  and  service — and  he  asks  nothing  in 
return — then  the  stolid  and  passive  Chinese  or  Korean  is 
genuinely  impressed.  Then  America  really  becomes  in 
his  mind  the  synonym  for  kindness  and  service,  and  from 
mouth  to  mouth  goes  abroad  the  fame  of  the  land  that 
is  aiming  to  do  him  good,  without  any  menacing  back- 
ground of  exploitation." 

I  talked  with  one  bright- faced,  twinkling-eyed, 
red-blooded,  big-framed  missionary  who  was 
crossing  with  his  family  of  a  wife  and  four  chil- 
dren. He  had  spent  fifteen  years  in  the  Orient 
as  a  missionary,  and  then  because  of  illness  he 
had  been  compelled  to  go  to  America.  There  he 
had  taken  a  church  and  had  preached  for  five 
years.  His  health  came  back,  and  as  he  told  me, 
*'The  lure  of  the  East  got  me  and  I  had  to  come 
back.  I  never  was  so  happy  in  my  life  as  I  am  on 
this  trip  and  the  whole  family  feels  the  same  way. 


212  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

We  are  going  back  to  our  people T  And  the  way 
he  pronounced  those  italicised  words  made  me 
know  that  he,  too,  was  weaving  a  thread  in  the 
Fabric  of  Friendship. 

We  met  a  woman  who  was  traveling  back  to 
China  with  her  three  darling  little  tots.  I  made 
love  to  all  three  of  them,  and  it  wasn't  long  before 
I  asked  one  where  her  Daddy  was.  I  assumed,, 
of  course,  that  they  had  been  home  on  a  furlough 
and  that  Daddy  was  back  there  in  China  waiting 
anxiously  for  them  to  return  to  him.  I  pictured 
that  meeting,  for  I  have  seen  many  such  during 
war  days,  both  on  this  side  and  in  France. 

*'My  Daddy  is  dead,"  the  child  said  simply 
with  a  quiver  of  her  little  lips. 

"All  right,,  dear  baby,  we  won't  talk  about  it 
then,"  for  I  was  afraid  that  those  little  trembling 
lips  couldn't  hold  in  much  longer.  But  she  wanted 
to  tell  me  about  it.  I  soon  saw  that.  She  liked 
to  talk  about  her  "dear  dead  Daddy." 

"He  went  to  France,"  she  said  simply. 

"Ah,  he  was  a  soldier?"  I  questioned. 

"No,  he  was  better  than  a  soldier,  my  Mamma 
says.  He  did  not  go  to  kill;  he  went  to  help." 
And  back  of  that  sentiment  and  that  statement 
I  saw  a  world  of  struggle  and  ideals  in  a  mission- 
ary home  where  the  man  felt  called  across  the 
seas  to  be  "in  it"  with  his  country  and  at  last  the 


FLASH-LIGHTS  OF  FRIENDSHIP       213 

refuge  of  the  man  who  could  go  "riot  to  kill  but 
to  help." 

"He  went  to  work  with  the  coolies  and  he  got 
the  influenza  and  died  last  winter.  We  won't 
have  any  Daddy  any  more,"  and  her  little  blue 
eyes  were  misty  with  tears.  And  so  were  mine, 
more  misty  than  I  dared  let  her  see.  And  they 
are  misty  now  as  I  write  about  it.  And  yours 
will  be  misty  if  you  read  about  it,  as  they  should 
be.  That  is  something  fine  in  you  being  called 
out. 

Later  I  rnet  the  mother.  She  told  me  over 
again  the  story  that  little  Doris  had  told  me  of 
the  big  Daddy  who  had  felt  the  call  to  go  to 
France  in  the  Y.M.C.A.  to  help  the  poor 
"coolies/'  several  hundred  of  whom  were,  by 
strange  coincidence,  going  back  to  China  on  the 
same  boat  with  us,  and  with  that  brave  mother 
and  those  dear  children.  These  "coolies"  were 
going  back  alive,  but  he  who  went  to  serve  them 
died.  "Others  he  saved;  Himself  he  could  not 
save,"  echoed  in  my  soul  as  that  mother  and  I 
talked. 

"I  am  going  back  to  the  Chinese  to  spend  the 
rest  of  my  life  finishing  Will's  work.  It  is  better 
so.    I  shall  be  happier." 

"But  the  association  there — everything — every 
turn  you  make — every  place  you  go — will  remind 
you  of  him/'  I  protested. 


214  FLASH-LIGHTS  FROM  THE  SEVEN  SEAS 

"It  would  be  what  Will  would  want  most  of 
all,  that  I  go  on  with  his  work.  I  go  gladly.  It 
will  be  the  best  balm  for  my  sorrow." 

And  far  above  national  friendships  there  loom 
these  snow-white  peaks  of  the  sacrificial  friend- 
ship the  missionaries  bear  in  their  hearts  for  the 
people  with  whom  they  live,  and  serve,  and  die. 


THE  END 


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